RAfl 


JOSEPH  A. ALTS HELER 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 

$ 

THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 

MM*  COLLECTION 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2010  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


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She  ran  out  uttering  a  cry,  and  turning  a  dismayed 

face  to  us 

Page  192 


THE 

LAST  REBEL 


BY 


JOSEPH  A.  ALTSHELER 

Author  of  "A  Knight  of  Philadelphia" 
**  The  Sun  of  Saratoga,"  etc. 


WITH    FRONTISPIECE    BY 

ELENORE    PLAISTED    ABBOTT 


PHILADELPHIA   &   LONDON 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY 

1900 


Copyright,  1898,  by  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company. 


Copyright,  1899,  by  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company. 


Printeo  by  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company,  Philadelphia,  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 


*  * 


CHAPTER    I. 

PAGB 

At  Odds  with  the  Compass 7 


CHAPTER    II. 
On  Trial 31 

CHAPTER    III. 
An  Unlucky  Sketch 56 

CHAPTER    IV. 
Among  the  Peaks 86 

CHAPTER    V. 

A  Change  of  Situations in 

5 


602690 


6  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER    VI. 

PAGE 

At  the  Hut 138 

CHAPTER    VII. 
Besiegers  and  Besieged 168 

CHAPTER    VIII. 
The  Results  of  a  Snow-Slide     ....     195 

CHAPTER    IX. 
I  am  in  Favor 215 


THE  LAST  REBEL 

*  *  * 

CHAPTER    I. 

AT    ODDS    WITH    THE    COMPASS. 

"C*  AST  or  west,  north  or  south  ?  With 
all  the  experience  of  a  man's  years 
and  the  knowledge  of  many  wise  books 
of  travel,  I  could  not  tell.  I  had  taken 
no  note  of  the  sun  when  I  left,  and,  neg- 
lected then,  it  would  not  serve  me  now 
as  a  guide.  To  me  at  that  moment  all 
points  of  the  compass  were  the  same. 

The  provoking  sun  which  I  could  not 
use  as  a  sign-post  seemed  bent  upon 
showing  how  brilliant  it  really  could  be. 
The  last  shred  of  white  and  harmless 
cloud  had  been  driven  from  the  heavens, 
which  were  a  deep  unbroken  blue,  with 

7 


8  THE   LAST    REBEL 

the  golden  lining  showing  through  like  a 
faint,  yellow  haze.  The  glowing  light 
clothed  the  earth,  and  intensified  the  red 
and  yellow  and  brown  tints  of  the  leaves, 
painted  by  the  master  artist,  autumn.  In 
such  a  glorious  flush  the  woods  and  the 
mountains  were  a  dazzle  and  tangle  of 
color.  But  through  all  the  glow  and 
blaze  of  the  sun  came  the  crisp  and 
tonic  coolness  which  marks  the  waning 
autumn  and  makes  it  best  and  most 
beautiful  as  it  goes.  It  was  good  to  be 
alone  with  forest  and  mountain.  To 
breathe  and  to  see  were  enough. 

I  cared  nothing  at  the  moment  for 
the  lost  camp  and  my  comrades  of  the 
hunt.  Yet  I  was  in  no  Arcady.  Take 
down  the  map  of  Kentucky,  and  you 
will  see  in  the  east  a  vast  region,  rough- 
ened over  with  the  dark  scrawls  meaning 
mountains,  through  which  no  railroad 
comes,  and  few  roads  of  any  kind  either. 
Add  to  it  other  large  and  similar  por- 
tions of  the  map  contiguous  in  Virginia, 


THE    LAST   REBEL  9 

West  Virginia,  and  Tennessee,  and  you 
have  enough  country  to  make  a  brave 
kingdom, — a  kingdom,  too,  over  which 
no  man  yet  has  been  able  to  make  him- 
self ruler,  not  even  any  governor  of  the 
four  States,  and  they  have  had  some  fine 
and  fit  governors.  In  this  kingdom  of 
mountain  and  wilderness  I  was  lost,  and 
was  not  mourning  it,  for  the  time. 

A  light  wind  stirred  the  currents  of 
air  and  began  that  faint,  curious  moaning 
through  the  drying  leaves  which  I  call 
the  swan-song  of  autumn.  The  bril- 
liant foliage  quivered  before  the  light 
touch  of  the  breeze,  and  the  reds  and 
the  yellows  and  the  browns  and  the  lin- 
gering bits  of  green  shifted  and  changed 
like  shaken  pieces  of  colored  silk. 

But  one  must  do  more  than  merely 
breathe  and  see,  or  even  listen  to  the 
wind  playing  on  the  autumn  leaves. 
This  kingdom  might  be  mine  by  right 
of  sole  tenancy,  but  after  a  little  I  pre- 
ferred— greatly  preferred — to  find  some 


io  THE    LAST   REBEL 

partner  of  my  throne  who  would  feed 
me  and  house  me  and  show  me  my  way 
back  to  camp.  Not  knowing  any  other 
mode  by  which  to  choose,  I  chose  the 
direction  which  indicated  the  easiest 
foot-path,  though  that  might  lead  me 
farthest  astray.  I  put  my  rifle  upon  my 
shoulder  and  walked  through  the  yel- 
lowing grass  and  the  short  red  bushes, 
over  hills  and  down  gullies,  which  were 
a  trial  to  muscles  and  the  forgiving  spirit. 
But  I  came  to  nothing  which  looked 
familiar,  not  a  tree,  not  a  bush,  not  a 
hill,  not  a  rock. 

I  began  to  tire  of  the  monotony  of 
the  wilderness,  which  was  lately  so  beau- 
tiful ;  ever  the  same  reds  and  yellows 
and  browns  and  bits  of  lingering  green ; 
ever  the  same  burnt  grass  and  purpling 
bushes  and  rocky  hills ;  but  never  a 
human  being  except  myself,  and  I  am 
not  company  for  two.  When  one 
grows  lonesome  beauty  departs.  I 
abused  the  wilderness  in  its  unchanged 


THE  LAST   REBEL  u 

garb,  and  longed  for  the  camp  and  the 
ugly  black  cook  frying  strips  of  bacon 
over  the  coals.  Hunger  will  not  be  de- 
nied its  complaints,  though  in  my  case 
they  availed  nothing. 

I  wandered  about  until  the  spirit  and 
the  flesh  rebelled  sorely  and  called  upon 
me  for  the  relief  which  I  had  not  to  give. 
Both  ankles  were  in  a  state  of  open 
mutiny ;  and  I  sat  down  upon  the  crest 
of  a  high  hill  to  soothe  them  into  tem- 
porary quiet.  I  observed  then  a  very 
marked  change  in  the  skies,  real,  and  not 
due  to  the  state  of  my  mind.  The  sun, 
as  if  satisfied  with  a  half-day's  splendor, 
was  withdrawing.  Some  clouds,  dark 
purple  streaks  showing  in  them,  hid  the 
blue  and  made  the  skies  sombre.  All 
the  bright  color  with  which  the  wilder- 
ness had  prinked  and  primped  itself  in 
the  sunshine  faded  and  became  dull  in 
this  twilight  afternoon. 

It  needed  no  weather-wise  prophet  to 
guess    quickly   the    meaning   of   these 


iz  THE   LAST  REBEL 

changes.  In  the  mountains  a  whiff  of 
snow  sometimes  comes  very  early, — 
now  and  then  so  early  that  it  whitens 
the  skirt  of  lingering  autumn.  The 
clouds  and  the  misty  air  with  the  chilly 
damp  in  it  betokened  such  an  arrival. 
Once  more  I  longed  for  our  snug  little 
valley,  with  the  camp,  half  tent,  half 
cabin,  and  the  sight  of  the  fat  black 
cook  frying  strips  of  bacon  over  the 
glowing  coals. 

I  had  no  fear  of  a  heavy  snow.  The 
season  was  too  early,  I  thought,  for  any- 
thing more  than  a  mere  spatter  of  white. 
But  snow,  whether  in  large  or  small 
quantities,  is  wet  and  cold,  and  it  was 
sufficient  to  be  lost,  without  these  new 
troubles. 

From  the  hill  I  thought  I  could  see  a 
valley  far  to  the  northeast,  with  the  blue 
and  silver  waters  of  a  brook  or  small 
river  shining  here  and  there  through  the 
foliage.  I  decided  to  make  all  haste  to- 
ward it,  for  in  these  mountains  human 


THE    LAST    REBEL  13 

life  seeks  the  valleys,  and  if  I  found 
food  and  shelter  at  all  it  would  most 
likely  be  there. 

I  took  small  account  of  the  rough 
way,  and  almost  ran  over  the  stones  and 
through  the  scrub.  I  was  in  some 
alarm,  for  which  there  was  ample  cause. 
The  clouds  thickened,  and  clothed  the 
higher  peaks.  Yet  I  was  cheered  by 
my  belief  that  in  truth  I  had  seen  a  val- 
ley of  some  extent ;  the  patches  of  blue 
and  silver  water  showed  more  plainly 
through  the  distant  foliage,  which  looked 
greener  than  the  withering  leaves  on  the 
mountain,  indicating  a  sheltered  and 
warmer  zone.  Rising  hope  brought 
back  some  of  my  strength,  and  when  I 
reached  the  summit  of  a  new  hill  in  the 
long  rows  of  hills  that  thrust  themselves 
before  me  as  if  to  bar  my  way,  I  was 
ready  to  shout  for  gladness  at  the  sight 
of  smoke. 

The  smoke  rose  from  the  valley, 
merely  a  faint  spiral  of  blue,  slowly  as- 


H  THE   LAST   REBEL 

cending,  and  melting  so  imperceptibly 
into  the  clouds  that  I  could  not  tell 
where  it  ended.  Yet  there  was  never  a 
more  welcome  sight  to  me  than  that 
little  smoky  wisp  which  told  so  plainly 
of  man's  presence. 

I  pushed  on  with  new  zeal,  stumbled 
against  a  stone,  and  rose  with  an  ankle 
that  made  bitter  complaints.  It  was  not 
a  sprain,  but  it  was  unpleasantly  near 
one,  and  I  doubted  my  ability  to  walk 
with  the  cripple  over  so  wicked  a  way 
to  the  valley.  I  abused  the  cruelty  of 
fate,  which  was  but  my  own  carelessness 
and  haste,  and  then  tried  to  think  out 
the  matter.  My  first  impulse  was  to 
throw  aside  my  gun  and  escape  its 
weight ;  that  led  to  my  second,  which 
was  to  fire  it  in  the  hope  of  attracting 
attention. 

I  had  plenty  of  cartridges.  I  dis- 
charged a  bullet  into  the  air.  The  echo 
was  carried  from  hill-top  to  hill-top, 
until  at  last  I  heard  it  faintly  speeding 


THE   LAST   REBEL  15 

away  through  the  distant  mountains. 
If  any  one  were  near,  such  a  report 
could  not  escape  his  ears ;  but  the  only 
answer  was  the  snow,  which  began  to 
fall  as  if  my  shot  had  been  the  signal 
for  its  coming.  The  soft  flakes  de- 
scended gently,  but  they  would  soon 
put  a  sheet  of  white  over  all  the  ridges. 
Some  melted  on  my  face,  and  the  damp 
chilled  me.  It  was  not  a  time  to  spare 
my  crippled  ankle.  I  limped  on,  firing 
my  rifle  a  second,  third,  and  fourth  time. 
I  could  still  see  the  spiral  of  smoke,  a 
true  beacon  to  me,  though  it  was  all  but 
hid  by  the  increasing  clouds. 

I  fired  the  fifth  time,  and  while  the 
echo  was  yet  travelling  among  the  peaks 
I  heard  a  faint  and  very  distant  halloo. 
I  had  no  doubt  that  it  was  an  answer  to 
my  shot,  and,  to  be  sure,  I  emptied  a 
sixth  cartridge  into  the  air.  Back  came 
the  far  cry.  Like  the  shot,  it  too  was 
taken  up  by  the  echo :  ridge  repeated  it 
to  ridge,  faint  and  far  away,  until  I  could 


16  THE   LAST   REBEL 

not  tell  from  what  point  of  the  compass 
the  true  sound  had  come. 

I  was  perplexed,  but  hopeful.  I  be- 
lieved that  help  of  some  kind  was  near. 
I  sat  down  on  a  rock  and  expended 
much  ammunition.  The  snow  was  still 
coming  down  in  the  same  gentle  unde- 
cided way,  but  I  was  compelled  to  stop 
between  shots  and  brush  the  damp, 
white  patches  off  my  clothing. 

Presently  the  answering  halloo  sounded 
very  near  me,  and  I  ceased  to  fire,  reply- 
ing with  a  shout. 

Two  large  dogs  scampered  through 
the  bushes,  and,  approaching  me,  began 
to  bark  as  if  they  had  brought  game  to 
bay.  A  strong  voice  ordered  them  to 
be  quiet,  and  then  the  owner  of  dogs 
and  voice  came  into  view. 

I  had  expected  the  usual  mountaineer, 
sallow,  angular,  and  shabby,  but  I  saw 
at  once  that  this  man  was  different.  The 
clean-featured,  keen,  intelligent  face  could 
not  belong  to  one  of  the  ignorant  dwellers 


THE   LAST   REBEL  17 

in  cabins.  He  was  tall,  thin,  and  past 
sixty,  well  dressed  in  a  gray  uniform, 
upon  which  the  brass  buttons  shone  with 
peculiar  brightness.  I  had  seen  such  uni- 
forms before,  but  they  were  relics,  and 
men  do  not  often  wear  them  nowadays. 

He  approached  me,  walking  in  the 
upright  fashion  of  a  military  man,  and 
showed  much  strength  and  activity  for 
one  so  far  advanced  in  years. 

"  I  must  apologize  for  my  dogs,  sir," 
he  said.  "  They  see  strangers  but  sel- 
dom, and  when  they  do  see  one  they 
must  lift  up  their  voices  and  announce  it 
to  all  the  world." 

"  The  sight  of  your  dogs,  and  still 
more  that  of  their  master,  is  very  wel- 
come to  me,"  I  replied. 

He  bowed  with  ancient  grace  and 
thanked  me  for  my  courtesy. 

"  I  must  ask  your  help,"  I  said.  "  I've 
lost  my  way,  and  I've  bruised  my  ankle 
so  badly  on  a  stone  that  I  fear  I  cannot 
walk  many  more  miles." 


1 8  THE   LAST    REBEL 

"It  is  not  far  to  my  place,"  he  re- 
plied, "  and  I  will  be  glad  to  offer  you 
such  hospitality  as  it  can  afford." 

I  looked  at  him  with  the  greatest  curi- 
osity, a  curiosity,  too,  that  increased  with 
all  he  said.  He  had  no  weapon,  nothing 
to  indicate  that  he  was  a  hunter ;  and  the 
uniform  of  a  fashion  that  went  out  of 
style  forever,  I  thought,  more  than  thirty 
years  ago,  with  its  gleaming  brass  but- 
tons and  freshness  of  texture,  drew  more 
than  one  inquiring  glance  from  me, 
despite  my  effort  not  to  appear  curi- 
ous to  a  stranger  upon  whom  I  had 
become  dependent.  But  if  he  noticed 
my  curiosity  it  did  not  appear  in  his 
manner. 

The  dogs,  secure  in  the  judgment  of 
their  master,  sniffed  about  me  in  friendly 
fashion.  The  man  pointed  toward  the 
corkscrew  of  smoke  which  the  clouds 
and  the  film  of  snow  had  not  yet  hidden. 

"  My  home  is  there,"  he  said.  "  Come, 
let  us  start.     This  is  no  place  for  a  man 


THE   LAST   REBEL  19 

in  your  condition  to  linger.  If  your 
ankle  gives  way  I  can  help  you." 

But  rest  had  improved  my  ankle,  and 
I  found  that  I  could  walk  in  a  tolerable 
manner.  He  took  my  gun  from  me, 
put  it  over  his  own  shoulder,  and  whis- 
tled to  the  dogs.  They  were  leaping 
about  like  two  panthers  in  play,  but  at 
his  whistle  they  ceased  the  sport  and 
marched  sedately,  neck  and  neck,  toward 
the  rising  smoke,  leading  the  way  for 
us. 

The  old  man  chose  the  way  as  if  he 
knew  it,  avoiding  the  rougher  slopes  and 
winding  about  in  a  sort  of  path  which 
made  the  walking  much  easier  for  me. 
As  if  good  luck  brought  good  luck,  the 
snow  ceased,  and  the  sun,  returning, 
drove  all  the  clouds  out  of  the  heavens. 
The  lustrous  sunshine  again  gilded  all 
the  colors  of  mountains  and  forest  and 
brought  out  the  fine  and  delicate  tints  of 
the  reds  and  yellows  and  browns.  The 
white  skim  of  snow  over  the  earth  dis- 


zo  THE   LAST    REBEL 

solved  in  tears,  and  the  warm  sun  that 
made  them  drank  them  up. 

The  valley  lying  fresh  and  yet  green 
below  us  broadened.  The  coil  of 
smoke  grew  into  a  column. 

"  Did  you  say  your  camp  lay  there  *?" 
I  asked,  pointing  toward  the  valley. 
We  had  been  silent  hitherto. 

"  I  did  not  say  my  camp,  sir ;  I  said 
my  home,"  he  replied,  with  some 
haughtiness.  "  Twenty  yards  farther, 
and  you  can  see  through  the  trees  a  cor- 
ner of  the  roof  of  Fort  Defiance." 

I  did  not  understand  him.  I  saw  no 
reason  for  his  high  tone,  and  much  was 
strange  in  what  he  said.  Yet  he  had 
the  manner  and  bearing  of  a  gentleman, 
and  he  had  been  a  timely  friend  to  me. 
I  had  no  right  to  ask  him  curious  ques- 
tions. 

He  did  not  seem  inclined  to  further 
talk,  and  I  too  was  silent.  But  I  found 
employment  for  my  eyes.  We  were 
descending  the  first  slopes  of  the  valley, 


THE   LAST    REBEL  21 

and  it  lay  before  us  a  welcome  oasis  in 
the  weary  wilderness  of  mountains. 

It  must  have  been  several  miles  in 
length  and  a  good  mile  or  more  across. 
Down  the  centre  of  it  flowed  a  creek  of 
clear,  cool  water,  almost  big  enough  to 
call  itself  a  river,  and  the  thickness  of  the 
tree-trunks  and  the  long  grass  browned 
by  the  autumn  breath  showed  the  fertil- 
ity of  the  soil.  Through  the  trees,  which 
still  retained  much  of  their  foliage,  the 
corners  of  house-roofs  appeared.  There 
are  many  such  secluded  and  warm  little 
valleys  in  the  Alleghanies,  and  I  saw  no 
occasion  for  surprise.  In  truth,  what  I 
saw  was  most  welcome :  it  indicated  the 
comfort  of  which  I  stood  in  need. 

"  I  haven't  asked  you  your  name," 
said  my  host,  suddenly. 

"  Arthur  West,"  I  replied. 

"  I  would  infer  from  your  accent  that 
you  are  a  Northerner,  a  Yankee,"  he 
said,  looking  at  me  closely,  and  in  a 
way  I  did  not  quite  understand. 


22  THE   LAST   REBEL 

"  You  are  right  on  the  first  point,  but 
not  on  the  second,"  I  replied.  "  I  am  a 
Northerner,  but  not  a  Yankee.  I  am 
not  from  New  England,  but  from  New 
York  City." 

"  It's  all  the  same,"  he  replied,  frown- 
ing. "  You're  a  Yankee,  and  I  knew  it 
from  the  first.  We  call  the  people  of 
all  the  Northern  States  Yankees." 

"  Have  it  so,"  I  replied,  with  a  laugh. 
"  But  abroad  they  call  us  all  Yankees, 
whether  from  the  Northern  or  the  South- 
ern States." 

"  Luckily  I  never  go  abroad,"  he  re- 
plied, frowning  still  more  deeply.  "  You 
have  not  asked  me  my  own  name,"  he 
continued. 

"No,  but  I  confess  I  would  like  to 
hear  it,"  I  replied.  "  I  wish  to  know 
whose  hospitality  I  am  about  to  enjoy,  a 
hospitality  for  which  I  can  never  thank 
you  too  much,  for  if  I  had  not  met 
you  I  might  have  starved  or  frozen  to 
death  in  this  wilderness." 


THE  LAST   REBEL  23 

*'  I  am  Colonel  John  Greene  Hether- 
ill,  C.S.A.,"  he  replied. 

"  C.S.A.  ?"  I  said,  looking  at  his  gray 
uniform. 

"Yes,  'C.S.A.,'"  he  replied.  His 
tone  was  emphatic  and  haughty.  "  Con- 
federate States  of  America.  What 
have  you  to  say  against  it  ?" 

*'  Nothing,"  I  replied.  "  I  leave  that 
to  the  historians." 

"  Who  are  mostly  liars,"  he  said. 

He  looked  at  me  with  an  expression 
of  undoubted  hostility. 

"I  would  have  liked  it  much  better 
had  you  been  a  Southerner  and  not 
a  Yankee,"  he  said.  "  How  can  I  trust 
you?" 

"  I  hope  I  am  a  gentleman,"  I  replied. 
"  At  any  rate,  I  am  lame  and  in  straits, 
and  under  no  circumstances  would  I 
violate  your  hospitality." 

His  expression  softened.  He  even 
looked  at  me  with  pity. 

"  Well,  it's  the  word  of  a  Yankee," 


24  THE  LAST   REBEL 

he  said,  "  but  still — it  may  be  the  truth. 
Remember  that  on  your  word  of  honor 
you  are  to  tell  nothing  about  Fort  De- 
fiance, its  approaches  or  its  plans." 

"  Certainly,"  I  said,  though  secretly 
wondering. 

He  seemed  to  be  relieved  of  his 
doubts,  and,  descending  the  last  slope, 
we  walked  at  a  brisk  pace  down  the 
valley. 

I  was  surprised  at  the  evidences  of 
care  and  cultivation,  though  the  fat, 
black  soil  of  the  valley  would  justify 
all  the  labor  that  might  be  put  upon  it. 
The  fences  were  good,  the  fields  well 
trimmed,  and  we  soon  entered  a  smooth 
road.  Everything  seemed  to  have  the 
neatness  and  precision  of  the  proprietor, 
the  man  with  whom  I  was  walking.  I 
looked  at  him  again,  and  was  struck 
with  the  evidences  of  long  military 
habit ;  not  alone  his  uniform,  but  even 
more  decidedly  his  manner  and  bear- 
ing. 


THE   LAST    REBEL  25 

We  passed  some  outhouses  built  in  a 
better  manner  than  I  had  seen  elsewhere 
in  the  mountain  valleys,  and  approached 
a  large  square  building  which  I  knew  at 
first  sight  to  be  Fort  Defiance,  since  it 
could  be  nothing  else.  It  was  of  two 
stories,  made  of  heavy  logs,  unhewn  on 
the  outside,  the  upper  story  projecting 
over  the  lower,  after  the  fashion  of  the 
block-houses  of  the  frontier  time.  I 
supposed  it  to  be  some  such  building, 
standing  here  after  the  lapse  of  a  hun- 
dred years  in  all  its  ancient  solidity  and 
devoted  now  to  more  peaceful  uses. 

The  valley  was  no  less  pleasant  to  eye 
than  to  mind.  When  one  is  sore  and 
hungry,  mountains  lose  their  picturesque- 
ness  and  grandeur ;  a  crust  and  a  bed 
are  infinitely  more  beautiful,  and  this 
valley  promised  both  and  better.  The 
house  stood  upon  a  hill  which  rose  to 
some  height  and  was  shaped  like  a  trun- 
cated cone.  The  little  river  flowed 
around  three  sides  of  the  hill  in  a  swift, 


26  THE   LAST   REBEL 

deep  current.  The  fourth  side  I  could 
not  see,  but  the  three  washed  at  the  base 
by  the  river  were  so  steep  a  man  could 
climb  them  only  with  great  difficulty. 
It  was  a  position  of  much  natural 
strength,  and  in  the  old  times,  when  rifles 
were  the  heaviest  weapons  used  in  these 
regions,  it  must  have  been  impregnable 
except  to  surprise. 

The  road  we  were  following  curved 
around  and  approached  the  house  from 
the  south  side,  the  side  which  at  first 
had  been  hidden  from  me,  and  then  I 
saw  it  was  the  only  ordinary  way  by 
which  one  could  enter  Fort  Defiance. 
But  even  here  art  had  been  brought  to 
the  aid  of  nature.  A  wide,  deep  ditch 
leading  from  the  river  had  been  carried 
around  the  south  side,  and  the  mound 
was  completely  encircled  by  water.  We 
crossed  the  ditch  on  a  drawbridge  let 
down  by  an  old  man  in  Confederate 
gray  like  his  master,  though  his  was 
stained  and  more  ancient. 


THE   LAST   REBEL  27 

Had  the  architecture  of  the  fort  been 
different,  had  it  been  stone  instead  of 
logs,  I  could  easily  have  imagined  my- 
self back  in  some  mediaeval  castle  of 
Europe,  and  not  here  in  the  mountains 
of  Kentucky. 

The  fort  looked  very  peaceful.  Smoke 
rose  from  three  or  four  chimneys,  and, 
drifting,  finally  united,  floating  off  into 
the  clouds.  This  was  the  lazy  coil  which 
I  had  seen,  and  which  perhaps  had  saved 
my  life. 

We  climbed  some  stone  steps,  and 
when  I  reached  the  top  I  found  a  little 
old-fashioned  brass  field-piece  confronting 
me.  But  there  was  no  rust  on  its  muz- 
zle, which  looked  at  me  with  the  sem- 
blance of  a  threat. 

"  One  would  think  from  your  prepara- 
tions, colonel,  that  we  were  in  a  state  of 
war,"  I  said,  jestingly. 

"  Have  you  any  weapons  on  you  ?" 
he  asked,  frowning  again,  and  not  an- 
swering my  jest. 


28  THE   LAST   REBEL 

"  No,"  I  replied  ;  "  I  had  nothing  but 
the  rifle,  and  you  have  that." 

"  I  will  keep  it  for  the  present,"  he 
said,  curtly. 

We  paused  before  a  heavy  door  of 
oak.  While  the  colonel  knocked,  I 
looked  up  at  the  overhanging  edges  of 
the  second  floor  and  saw  that  they  were 
pierced  for  sharpshooters.  But  before  I 
had  time  to  look  long,  the  door  was 
opened  by  a  man  in  a  suit  of  Confed- 
erate gray,  like  his  fellow  at  the  draw- 
bridge. He  saluted  the  colonel  in  mili- 
tary fashion  as  the  others  had  done,  and 
we  entered  a  wide  hall  which  seemed 
to  run  the  entire  width  of  the  house. 
Many  c{  the  old  houses  in  Kentucky 
are  built  in  this  fashion.  The  hall  was 
decorated,  I  might  almost  say  armed, 
with  weapons, — rifles,  pistols,  bayonets, 
swords,  many  of  them  of  the  most  mod- 
ern type.  Tanned  skins  of  bear,  deer, 
and  wolf  were  on  the  floor.  Had  it  not 
been  for  the  late  style  of  the  weapons,  I 


THE   LAST   REBEL  29 

could  have  maintained  the  fiction  that  it 
was  a  castle  of  the  Middle  Ages  and  this 
the  baronial  hall. 

He  led  me  up  a  flight  of  steps,  and 
opened  the  door  of  a  small  room  on  the 
second  floor.  The  room  contained  noth- 
ing but  a  small  table,  a  camp-bed,  a 
three-legged  stool,  and  two  or  three  other 
articles  of  furniture  equally  plain.  There 
was  but  a  single  window,  and  it  was 
cross-barred  heavily  with  iron.  It  looked 
more  like  a  cell  than  a  chamber.  Nor 
did  it  belie  its  looks. 

"  This  will  be  your  prison  for  the 
present,"  said  the  colonel.  "  Lie  down 
on  the  bed  there  and  rest,  and  Crothers 
will  be  up  in  ten  minutes  with  food  for 
you." 

"  Prison  !"  I  exclaimed,  in  surprise. 

"  Yes,  prison,"  he  repeated,  "  but  that 
is  all.  I  do  not  intend  to  deal  harshly 
with  you  otherwise.  You  are  a  Yankee, 
and  I  must  see  that  you  do  not  meddle." 

He  cut  short  my  protest  by  leaving 


3o  THE    LAST   REBEL 

the  room,  slamming  the  door,  and  lock- 
ing it.  The  door  was  so  thick  I  could 
not  hear  his  retreating  footsteps.  As  the 
colonel  had  said,  I  was  a  prisoner,  but  I 
did  not  feel  much  alarm.  I  had  confi- 
dence in  his  promise  that  I  would  come 
to  no  harm.  I  looked  between  the  bars 
of  the  window,  which  opened  upon  a 
small  space  like  a  court.  One  side  of 
the  court  was  open  and  ran  sheer  up  to 
the  edge  of  the  cliff,  which  dropped 
away  thirty  or  forty  feet  to  the  river 
below.  The  torrent  foamed  around  the 
mound  with  a  tumult  like  a  mill-race. 
Beyond  were  open  fields,  ending  abruptly 
at  the  foot  of  steep  and  rough  mountains. 


CHAPTER  II. 

ON    TRIAL. 

TV/TY  eyes  followed  the  long  sweep  of 
the  mountains,  their  shaggy  out- 
line cutting  the  clear  blue  of  the  skies ; 
then  they  came  back  to  the  court,  and 
for  the  moment  I  thought  that  they  had 
deceived  me,  for  either  I  saw  the  flutter 
of  a  woman's  dress  or  imagination  was 
my  master.  A  woman  in  this  rough 
fortress  was  the  last  thing  for  me  to  ex- 
pect. But  I  reflected  that  it  was  not  so 
strange,  after  all.  A  serving-woman, 
probably,  the  wife  of  one  of  the  colonel's 
retainers.  It  was  in  keeping  with  the 
character  of  the  place,  which  in  my 
fancy  I  had  turned  into  a  baronial  keep. 
I  saw  the  flutter  of  the  dress  again, 

3i 


32  THE   LAST   REBEL 

and  then  its  wearer  came  into  better 
view.  She  was  looking  at  the  river,  and 
stood  with  her  back  toward  the  house. 
That  was  no  common  serving-woman, 
the  wife  of  no  laborer.  The  figure  was 
too  slender,  too  erect ;  there  was  too 
much  distinction  and  grace  in  the  pose, 
and  the  dress  itself  was  of  good  cut  and 
material.  That  was  all  that  I  could  see, 
save  a  mass  of  coiled,  dark  brown  hair. 

I  was  full  of  curiosity,  nor  do  I  think 
I  was  prying  because  of  it.  Put  your- 
self in  my  place  and  see.  In  a  few  mo- 
ments she  turned  and  looked  directly  up 
at  my  window,  though  she  could  not 
have  known  that  I  was  gazing  out  at 
her.  It  was  the  face  of  a  girl  of  twenty, 
fair  and  strong,  yet  sad.  Even  at  the 
distance  between  us,  I  could  see  enough 
resemblance  to  guess  that  she  was  Col- 
onel Hetherill's  daughter.  A  likely 
enough  supposition,  anyway,  for  what 
girl  of  such  appearance  could  be  here 
unless  his  daughter? 


THE  LAST   REBEL  33 

She  looked  up  at  my  window  only  a 
moment  or  two,  and  then,  walking  with 
a  light  and  graceful  step,  disappeared 
through  some  door  opening  into  the 
court,,  I  hold  that  I  am  not  without  a 
fair  share  of  imagination ;  and  easily  I 
builded  a  fine  romance  for  myself.  Here 
was  I,  an  innocent  prisoner  in  the  cruel 
baron's  castle,  and  this  was  his  fair  daugh- 
ter, who  would  fall  in  love  with  me  and 
rescue  me.  By  Jove  !  she  was  hand- 
some enough  for  me  to  fall  in  love  with 
her.  The  only  trouble  about  my  ro- 
mance was  that  in  the  morning  after  a 
good  night's  rest  I  would  be  sent  with  a 
guide  to  our  hunting-camp,  and  that 
would  be  the  end  of  it. 

Happily,  when  I  reached  this  conclu- 
sion, the  door  was  opened,  and  Crothers 
came  in  with  food,  for  which  I  was  de- 
voutly grateful.  Crothers — I  had  heard 
the  colonel  call  him  so — was  the  man 
who  had  opened  the  door  for  us,  a 
hatchet-faced,  battered  old  fellow,  who 

3 


34  THE  LAST   REBEL 

walked  with  a  limp  and  who  yet  looked 
strong  and  active. 

Evidently  the  colonel  had  no  mind  to 
starve  me,  for  Crothers  bore  enough  for 
two  upon  his  tray.  A  smoking  pot  of 
coffee,  steaks  of  venison  and  beef,  warm 
biscuits,  and  butter,  made  a  sight  as  wel- 
come to  my  eyes  as  a  Raphael  to  an  ar- 
tist's, and  created  odors  that  were  divine. 
My  spirits  rose  to  the  summer-heat 
mark. 

"I  see  that  the  colonel  has  a  proper 
regard  for  my  health  and  well-being, 
Crothers,"  I  said,  jovially. 

"  The  colonel  hates  all  Yankees,  and 
so  do  the  rest  of  us,"  he  said,  in  surly 
fashion  :  "  but  he  doesn't  want  to  starve 
any  of  you  to  death,  though  I  guess  you 
starved  enough  of  us  to  death  in  Camp 
Chase." 

"  Camp  Chase  *?  what  the  deuce  was 
that*?"  I  asked. 

"  One  of  your  war  prisons,"  he  replied. 
"  Try  that  coffee ;  you'll  find  it  good, 


THE    LAST    REBEL  35 

and  you'll  find  the  venison  and  the  beef 
to  be  good  too." 

I  had  no  doubt  that  I  would.  I  put 
the  question  immediately  to  proof,  which, 
I  may  add,  was  satisfactory.  Encouraged 
by  his  friendly  comment  upon  the  food, 
in  which  he  seemed  to  take  a  certain 
pride,  perhaps  having  cooked  it  himself, 
I  spoke  to  him  in  friendly  fashion,  ex- 
pecting a  reply  of  like  tenor.  But  he 
seemed  to  have  repented  of  his  sudden 
courtesy,  and  made  no  reply.  He  had 
placed  the  tray  upon  the  table,  and  with- 
out further  word  or  action  left  the  room. 
I  heard  him  locking  my  door  with  as 
much  care  as  if  he  had  been  Colonel 
Hetherill  himself. 

I  began  now  to  feel  that  I  was  in  truth 
and  reality  a  prisoner,  a  fact  which  I 
contemplated  before  only  in  a  humorous 
or  make-believe  way.  Nevertheless  it 
did  not  interfere  with  my  appetite.  I 
realized  that  prisoners  may  become  as 
hungry  as    free   men,   and,  as    I    could 


36  THE   LAST   REBEL 

truthfully  say  I  knew  not  where  the 
next  meal  would  come  from,  I  made 
satisfactory  disposition  of  this. 

Refreshed  and  strengthened,  I  put  the 
emptied  tray  on  the  floor,  and  drew  my 
stool  to  the  window,  where  I  took  a  seat, 
hoping  that  the  lady  of  the  castle,  for  so 
in  my  fancy  I  had  named  her,  would 
appear  again.  But  the  lady  did  not  con- 
descend, nor  did  any  other  human  being. 
Perhaps  they  did  not  know  that  I  was 
waiting.  Instead,  I  saw  the  coming  of 
the  night. 

Since  that  night  I  have  felt  pity  for 
every  prisoner  in  his  cell  who  watches 
the  approach  of  darkness.  There  is  so 
much  friendliness,  so  much  good  cheer 
and  encouragement  about  the  sun  that 
even  the  felon  must  look  to  him,  through 
bars  though  it  be,  as  a  friend.  Even  I, 
who  was  conscious  of  no  crime  and  had 
just  eaten  a  good  warm  supper,  the  best 
of  all  tonics,  felt  my  spirits  decline  with 
the  day. 


THE   LAST   REBEL  37 

My  window  looked  to  the  southwest, 
right  into  the  eye  of  the  setting  sun.  It 
was  a  very  big  sun  and  a  very  red  sun, 
turning  all  the  mountains  into  red,  its 
blazing  scarlet  dyes  rubbing  out  the 
more  modest  yellows  and  browns,  and 
even  touching  the  withered  grass  with 
flame.  The  red  lances  of  light  fell 
across  the  river,  and  the  water  foaming 
around  the  mound  seemed  to  break  in 
bubbles  of  fire. 

Lower  sank  the  sun.  One  edge  of 
the  flaming  globe  disappeared  behind 
the  mountains,  and  a  line  of  dusk  began 
to  creep  up  under  the  rim  of  the  red 
horizon.  It  looked  like  a  battle  be- 
tween night  and  day,  with  day  losing 
despite  all  the  power  of  its  ally,  the  sun. 
Broader  grew  the  band  of  dusk,  and  nar- 
rower became  the  red  segment  of  the 
sun.  Only  the  crest  of  the  mountains, 
long  and  sharp  like  a  sword-blade,  was 
in  the  light  now.  There  every  shrub, 
every  rock,  stood  out  magnified  by  the 


38  THE   LAST    REBEL 

last  but  most  brilliant  light  of  the  sink- 
ing orb.  Beneath  this  luminous  ribbon, 
trees,  rocks,  earth,  all  were  gone.  The 
mountain  crests  seemed  to  swim  in  the 
air. 

I  had  seen  many  sunsets  in  the  moun- 
tains, but  never  before  in  such  a  peculiar 
situation,  and  I  own  that  I  felt  awed. 
The  sun  became  but  a  red  fragment ; 
the  red  leaves  and  the  fiery  bubbles  on 
the  river  were  gone.  I  could  hear  the 
rush  of  the  water,  but  I  could  not  see 
the  torrent.  I  looked  up  again :  the 
sun,  yielding  to  the  night,  had  disap- 
peared, leaving  but  a  faint  gleam  to  mark 
where  he  had  retreated  behind  the  moun- 
tains, to  come  up  again  in  another  place, 
victorious  in  his  turn,  the  next  morning. 
Save  for  this  remembering  gleam,  the 
mountains  and  the  valley  were  in  com- 
plete darkness. 

It  was  dark  in  my  room,  too,  and  it 
was  only  through  accustoming  my  eyes 
to  the  coming  of  the  night  that  I  was 


THE   LAST   REBEL  39 

able  to  see  the  outlines  of  the  scanty 
furniture.  My  spirits  were  heavy.  I 
knew  nothing  of  the  nature  of  the  man 
into  whose  hands  I  had  fallen,  and  in 
these  secluded  mountains  there  was  no- 
body to  help  me.  You  can  credit,  if 
you  will,  much  of  this  feeling  to  the 
darkness,  which  often  is  a  wet  blanket 
upon  the  feelings  not  alone  of  children, 
but  of  grown  and  experienced  men  as 
well. 

It  was  then  with  a  sensation  of  relief 
that  I  heard  some  one  fumbling  at  the 
door.  Any  company  would  be  better 
than  .none.  The  door  opened,  and  the 
colonel  entered,  followed  by  the  man 
who  had  brought  my  supper  and  a  third 
whom  I  had  not  seen  before.  This  new 
man  was  of  better  dress  and  presence 
than  Crothers,  and  the  colonel  intro- 
duced him  briefly. 

"Dr.  Ambrose,  my  military  surgeon, 
sir,  and  a  very  good  one  too,  I  can  assure 
you." 


4o  THE   LAST    REBEL 

Crothers  put  a  lighted  candle  on  the 
table.  Dr.  Ambrose  examined  my  swol- 
len ankle.  He  bound  around  it  a  cloth 
soaked  in  liniment,  and  said  it  would  be 
well  in  the  morning. 

"  Now,  sir,"  said  the  colonel,  speaking 
in  a  brisk,  curt  manner,  "  having  done 
our  duty  by  you  as  a  disabled  prisoner, 
we  will  proceed  with  your  examination. 
Doctor,  it  is  necessary  that  this  should 
be  taken  in  writing.  You  will  kindly 
act  as  clerk  while  I  question  the  pris- 
oner." 

I  opened  my  mouth  to  protest  and  to 
demand  explanation,  but  the  colonel  cut 
me  short  with  a  "  Be  silent,  sir,  until  the 
time  comes  for  you  to  speak ;"  and, 
rather  than  be  exposed  to  another  such 
insult,  I  remained  silent.  Moreover,  the 
scene  amused  me  somewhat.  I  was 
wondering  what  this  strange  old  man 
would  do  next. 

Dr.  Ambrose  drew  up  my  stool — I 
had  taken  a  seat  on  the  bed — and  pro- 


THE   LAST   REBEL  41 

duced  a  roll  of  paper,  pen,  and  small 
ink-well.  His  was  the  deliberation  of  a 
military  mind  provided  with  time  and 
bent  upon  doing  things  well.  The  col- 
onel stood  before  me,  straight  and  stern. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Arthur  West,"  I  replied.  "  This  is 
the  second  answer  to  the  same  ques- 
tion." 

"  Your  home  V 

"City  of  New  York,  State  of  New 
York." 

"  Your  age  V 

"  Twenty-seven." 

At  every  question  and  answer  I  heard 
the  scratching  of  the  doctor's  industrious 
pen  across  the  pad  of  the  paper.  Now, 
be  it  understood,  I  knew  no  law  com- 
pelling me  to  answer  these  questions,  but 
I  thought  it  better  to  do  so,  and  then  I 
might  see  to  what  end  the  matter  would 
come.  I  smiled  a  little  :  the  colonel  saw 
it  at  once. 

"  No   levity,  sir !"    he   cried,   fiercely. 


42  THE   LAST   REBEL 

"  You  do  not  seem  to  be  aware  of  your 
position  ?" 

Perhaps  I  was  not ;  but  I  said  noth- 
ing. 

"What  were  you  doing  within  our 
lines  in  civilian's  dress  ?"  he  asked. 

"Whose  lines'?"  I  replied.  "I  do 
not  know  what  you  mean." 

"  The  lines  of  Fort  Defiance,  the  last 
stronghold  of  the  Confederacy ;  which 
stronghold  I  have  the  honor  to  com- 
mand," he  replied,  his  ancient  blue  eyes 
lighting  up  with  the  fires  of  zeal. 

I  laughed. 

"  The  Confederacy !"  I  said,  in  deri- 
sion. "  Why,  the  last  stronghold  of  the 
Confederacy  surrendered  more  than  thirty 
years  ago." 

"  You  lie,  sir  !"  thundered  the  colonel, 
"  and  for  the  proof  that  you  lie,  look 
around  you  !  The  stars  and  bars  still 
fly  above  this  fort,  and  I  and  my  men 
have  never  surrendered  to  the  Yankees, 
nor  ever  will.      For  many  hours  now 


THE   LAST    REBEL  43 

you  have  been  on  the  soil  of  the  Con- 
federacy, and  I,  for  the  lack  of  higher 
authorities,  am  in  supreme  command, 
both  civil  and  military. — Is  not  all  that  I 
say  true,  doctor  %    Is  it  not  so,  Crothers  ?" 

Crothers  and  the  doctor  bowed  in  a 
manner  indicating  deep  belief.  I  saw- 
that  I  was  to  receive  neither  help  nor 
sympathy  from  them. 

"  What  is  your  occupation  ?"  asked 
the  colonel. 

"  I  do  not  see  that  it  is  any  business 
of  yours,"  I  said;  "but,  as  I  am  not 
ashamed  of  my  profession,  and  you  may 
have  saved  my  life  on  the  mountains, 
I've  no  objection  to  telling  you.  I'm  an 
artist." 

At  this  modest  announcement  the 
colonel's  face,  to  my  surprise,  became 
more  threatening.  Never  did  I  see  a 
man's  expression  more  thoroughly  be- 
token suspicion. 

"An  artist'?"  he  exclaimed.  "You 
paint,  you  draw  things  ?" 


44  THE   LAST    REBEL 

"  Some  of  the  critics  say  I  don't,  but 
my  friends  say  I  do,"  I  replied. 

He  grumbled  to  himself  and  looked 
at  me  with  angry,  distrustful  eyes. 

"  What  were  you  doing  on  these 
mountains  ?"  he  asked.  "  Why  were 
you  approaching  Fort  Defiance  ?" 

"  I  told  you  I  was  on  a  hunting-trip 
and  lost  myself,"  I  said.  "  I  hadn't  the 
slightest  idea  I  was  approaching  Fort 
Defiance.  I  never  heard  of  the  place 
before." 

He  pulled  his  fierce,  gray  moustache 
in  doubt,  looking  at  me  as  if  mine  were 
the  most  unwelcome  face  that  ever  met 
his  gaze.  Presently  he  beckoned  the 
doctor  to  the  door,  and  they  whispered 
together  there  for  a  few  moments.  Then 
he  returned  to  me. 

"You  have  in  reality  a  bad  ankle, 
the  doctor  says,  and  he  is  inclined  to 
give  you  the  benefit  of  the  doubt,"  he 
said,  "  and  so  am  I.  At  any  rate,  we 
will  not  treat  you  badly,  though  we  may 


THE   LAST    REBEL  45 

be  forced  to  keep  you  as  a  guest  for  a 
little  while." 

I  thanked  him  for  his  gracious  consid- 
eration. 

"  We  are  compelled  to  keep  you 
locked  in  to-night,"  he  continued,  "  but 
we  may  be  able  to  do  better  for  you  in 
the  morning." 

"  Very  well,"  I  said,  with  some  impa- 
tience. "  Keep  me  locked  in  if  you 
choose,  but  at  any  rate  let  me  sleep." 

I  thought  his  rough  treatment  of  me 
offset  the  favor  I  had  owed  him.  More- 
over, I  was  very  tired  and  sleepy,  and  the 
obligation  of  politeness  seemed  to  rest 
upon  me  no  longer. 

The  doctor  folded  his  notes  and 
handed  them  to  the  colonel,  who  placed 
them  carefully  in  an  inside  pocket. 
Then  they  bowed  stiffly,  and  went  out, 
locking  the  door  as  usual. 

I  looked  out  through  my  window. 
The  moon  was  rising  above  the  moun- 
tains.    In    the   valley   the    foliage    was 


46  THE   LAST   REBEL 

tipped  with  silver.  The  bubbles  on  the 
river,  fire-color  at  set  of  sun,  had  turned 
to  silver  now.  Nothing  seemed  to  stir  ; 
all  was  peace. 

Wondering  what  would  be  the  end  of 
my  strange  adventure,  I  lay  down  on  the 
bed,  and  in  five  minutes  forgot  wonder 
and  all  other  things  in  a  deep  sleep. 

I  might  have  slept  all  the  next  day 
too,  but  I  was  awakened  by  a  good 
shaking  at  the  hands  of  Crothers,  and 
found  the  room  full  of  light.  Crothers 
was  standing  beside  me.  He  was  a  sour- 
faced  fellow,  but  he  seemed  to  be  less 
hostile  that  morning,  and  I  asked  him 
cheerfully  if  he  was  going  to  bring  me 
my  breakfast.  He  said  no,  but  told  me 
I  was  invited  to  the  colonel's  own  table. 

"  It's  Miss  Grace  who  did  it,"  he  said. 
"  She  didn't  think  the  colonel  was  treat- 
ing you  just  right." 

"  Miss  Grace  is  the  colonel's  daughter, 
is  she  not*?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes." 


THE   LAST   REBEL  47 

I  was  sure  that  the  girl  I  had  seen  in 
the  court  the  evening  before  was  Grace 
Hetherill.  This  invitation  looked  prom- 
ising. The  colonel  would  surely  come 
to  his  senses  now  and  act  like  a  man  who 
knew  it  was  the  year  of  our  Lord  1 896, 
and  not  1 864.  As  there  was  to  be  a  lady 
present,  I  asked  for  a  bath  and  comb  and 
brush,  as  I  wished  to  make  myself  very 
spruce.  All  these  I  obtained,  finding 
that  the  fort  was  not  without  its  com- 
forts. Then,  Crothers  still  my  escort 
and  guide,  I  went  to  the  breakfast-table. 

I  was  not  prepared  for  the  scene  of 
comfort,  even  luxury,  that  met  me  in  the 
dining-room.  Yet  I  was  not  astonished. 
The  presence  of  a  cultivated  young 
woman  in  the  year  1896  is  responsible 
for  much.  It  was  a  large  apartment, 
decorated  with  horns  and  antlers  and 
some  fine  old  silver-bound  drinking-cups 
of  a  past  age.  But  I  had  little  time  for 
inspection.  The  table  was  set,  and  the 
company  was  waiting. 


48  THE    LAST    REBEL 

I  seemed  to  pass  suddenly  from  the 
position  of  prisoner  to  guest,  and  the 
transformation,  in  seeming  at  least,  was 
complete.  The  colonel,  with  all  the  dig- 
nity of  Kentucky  good  blood  and  the 
military  life,  saluted  and  introduced  me 
to  his  daughter. 

"My  daughter,  Miss  Hetherill,  Mr. 
West  of  New  York,  one  of  the  other 
side." 

I  made  my  best  bow.  She  was 
worthy  of  it.  It  was  the  girl  I  had  seen 
in  the  court.  No  fainting  maiden,  no 
Mariana  in  the  moated  grange,  was  this, 
but  a  tall,  red-cheeked  girl  with  brown 
eyes,  lustrous  dark  brown  hair,  and  mod- 
ern attire.  Here  was  one  who  had  seen 
life  beyond  the  walls  of  Fort  Defiance 
or  its  valley.  Any  fool  would  have 
known  it  at  the  first  glance.  In  the 
presence  of  this  splendid  woman,  who 
received  me  with  so  much  tact  and 
grace,  I  began  to  feel  as  if  the  father 
owed  me  no  apology. 


THE   LAST   REBEL  49 

The  breakfast-table  was  worthy  of 
the  hostess  who  poured  the  coffee  for  us. 
I  glanced  again  at  the  room.  On  the 
wall,  gazing  at  me  with  calm  eyes,  was 
a  fine  portrait  of  General  Lee.  Near  it 
was  one  of  Stonewall  Jackson.  Farther 
on  was  Jefferson  Davis,  and  as  I  looked 
at  the  four  walls  of  the  room  I  saw 
that  the  whole  Confederacy  was  present. 
Wreathed  over  the  door  somewhat  after 
the  fashion  of  a  looped-up  curtain  was 
the  Confederate  flag. 

I  wished  to  ask  many  questions  of 
this  strange  household,  but  courtesy 
forbade  it,  when  I  saw  that  every  time 
I  led  the  conversation  in  the  direc- 
tion of  curiosity  it  was  skilfully  turned 
aside.  Instead,  we  talked  of  the  great 
world  outside,  and  made  very  good 
progress,  barring  a  certain  unfamiliarity 
on  the  part  of  the  colonel,  who  spoke  as 
if  all  these  things  were  vague  and  unreal 
to  him. 

There  was  a  wide  window  at  the  end 
4 


50  THE   LAST   REBEL 

of  the  room,  and  I  could  see  that  it 
was  a  glorious  morning  without.  The 
torrent,  thirty  feet  down,  dashed  and 
sparkled  in  front  of  the  window,  the  gay- 
sunlight  falling  on  it  and  showing  rocks 
and  pebbles  in  its  clear  depths.  All  the 
brilliant  colors  of  late  autumn,  which  I 
had  admired  so  much  the  day  before, 
reappeared,  more  dazzling  after  a  brief 
eclipse.  I  knew  that  the  air  outside  was 
tonic  like  good  wine,  but  there  was 
enough  just  then  to  keep  me  content  in 
that  breakfast-room,  the  heart  of  the  lost 
Confederacy.  The  lost  Confederacy  ! 
How  could  I  say  that,  with  its  president 
and  ministers  and  generals  looking  down 
from  the  walls  at  me  as  if  all  the  world 
were  theirs,  while  the  stars  and  bars, 
under  which  I  had  just  passed,  hung  in 
loops  over  the  door  ! 

As  his  daughter  and  I  talked  more, 
the  colonel  talked  less.  Seen  in  the 
light  of  the  morning,  his  face  looked 
rather  worn,  and  once  when  he  threw  his 


THE   LAST   REBEL  51 

yet  thick  white  hair  back  with  his  hand 
I  noticed  the  scar  of  a  deep  wound 
across  his  head.  I  began  to  feel  sym- 
pathy for  him  without  knowing  exactly 
why.  He  rose  presently  and  excused 
himself,  saying  it  was  time  to  give  his 
men  some  directions  for  the  day.  Miss 
Hetherill  and  I  dawdled  a  little  over  the 
coffee-cups,  and  I  took  the  opportunity 
to  thank  her  for  her  intercession  with  her 
father  in  my  favor.  She  did  not  make 
light  of  my  thanks  or  of  her  act,  and 
her  manner  appeared  to  indicate  a  belief 
on  her  part  that  I  had  been  in  real  dan- 
ger ;  which,  however,  I  had  not  been 
able  to  persuade  myself  was  so,  nor 
could  I  yet. 

She  asked  me  if  I  would  look  through 
the  house, — I  noticed  she  did  not  call  it 
fort,  and  I  consented  with  gladness,  say- 
ing I  would  be  pleased  to  go  anywhere 
with  so  fair  a  guide,  which  she  accepted 
with  the  carelessness  of  one  who  had 
heard  the  like  before. 


52  THE   LAST   REBEL 

She  took  me  into  a  room  she  called 
the  great  parlor,  and  a  noble  room  it 
was,  too,  though  here,  as  elsewhere,  the 
atmosphere  was  distinctly  military.  It 
was  full  thirty  feet  square,  with  a  vaulted 
ceiling  of  polished  oak.  Furs  were  on 
the  floor  and  arms  on  the  wall,  repeat- 
ing rifles,  revolvers,  bayonets,  swords  in 
much  variety. 

"It  is  my  father's  chief  delight  to 
polish  these  and  to  see  that  they  are  in 
perfect  order,"  she  said. 

"  Miss  Hetherill,"  I  said,  speaking 
suddenly  from  impulse,  "  why  does  your 
father  cherish  this  delusion  f  Why  does 
he  not  go  and  live  among  his  kind  ?" 

I  regretted  instantly  that  I  had  spoken 
so,  for  she  turned  upon  me  with  a  sud- 
den flash  of  anger. 

"  Delusion,  sir  ?"  she  exclaimed. 
"You  forget  yourself.  It  is  the  most 
real  thing  in  the  world  to  him.  Be 
careful  how  you  make  use  of  such  ex- 
pressions here.     I  advise  you  also  not  to 


THE   LAST   REBEL  53 

forget  that  you  are  still  my  father's  pris- 
oner." 

She  spoke  with  so  much  earnestness 
that  I  was  impressed,  more  from  fear  that 
I  had  wounded  her  feelings  than  from  fear 
for  myself.  I  felt  confident  yet  that  it 
was  the  year  1896;  and  that  all  the 
world  was  at  peace,  barring  the  little 
wars  of  England,  which  don't  count. 
She  took  me  no  further  than  the  great 
parlor — or  the  armory,  if  its  fit  name 
be  applied.  My  unfortunate  question 
seemed  to  make  some  change  in  her 
intentions,  and  she  suggested  that  we 
walk  outside  on  the  terrace. 

It  was  a  delight  as  keen  as  any  I  had 
ever  felt  to  step  out  after  imprisonment 
into  the  brilliant  sunshine  of  the  free 
and  open  world.  Miss  Hetherill  threw 
a  light  cloak  over  her  shoulders,  for 
there  was  a  sharp  coolness  in  the  air,  and 
together  we  strolled  over  the  terrace.  I 
admired  the  solidity  and  strength  of 
Fort  Defiance,  though  a  good-sized  mod- 


54  THE  LAST   REBEL 

ern  cannon  could  have  knocked  it  to 
pieces  with  ease,  if  any  one  were  ever 
able  to  get  a  cannon  over  the  maze  of 
mountains  that  separated  this  valley  from 
the  remainder  of  the  world.  It  was  im- 
pregnable to  attack  by  small  arms,  if 
well  guarded.  The  drawbridge  was  still 
up,  and  I  spoke  of  it. 

"  It  is  up  most  of  the  time,"  she  said, 
frankly,  "  but  to-day  it  will  be  up  more 
than  usual.  That  is  on  your  account. 
You  are  to  be  kept  well  guarded." 

"  The  current  of  the  river  is  too  swift," 
I  said ;  "  but  I  think  I  could  swim  the 
moat." 

"  If  you  succeeded,"  she  said,  "  you 
would  probably  starve  to  death  in  the 
mountains." 

"  Then  I  shall  remain  here,"  I  said. 
"  I'm  glad  that  I  have  so  good  an  ex- 
cuse for  remaining." 

I  sought  to  be  gallant,  but  she  only 
frowned,  and  I  did  not  attempt  it  again. 
She  left  me   presently,  going   into   the 


THE   LAST    REBEL  55 

house,  while  I  continued  my  stroll  in  the 
crisp,  invigorating  air.  I  could  take  but 
a  limited  walk  at  best,  merely  the  cir- 
cuit of  the  hill-top,  embracing  perhaps 
a  couple  of  acres  around  the  house. 
Within  that  space  I  could  wander  at 
will,  and  no  watch  seemed  to  be  set  upon 
me. 


CHAPTER   III. 

AN    UNLUCKY    SKETCH. 

HP  HE  hill  projected  farther  toward  the 
southwest  than  in  any  other  direc- 
tion, and  in  my  wanderings  I  came  to 
that  point.  Looking  back,  I  obtained  a 
sweeping  view  of  Fort  Defiance,  with  its 
sloping  roofs  and  sombre-hued  walls. 
At  one  angle  the  vines  had  grown  up 
and  clung  against  the  wall.  It  was  such 
a  place  as  I  would  like  to  tell  about 
when  I  returned  to  my  friends,  and,  what 
was  better,  I  could  show  it  to  them  in 
its  real  and  exact  proportions.  I  had  a 
pencil  and  some  good  white  cardboard 
in  an  inside  pocket. 

I  found  a  good  seat  on  a  stone,  made 
ready  with  board  and  pencil,  and  began 

56 


THE   LAST   REBEL  57 

to  study  the  fort.  It  was  a  fine  subject 
for  an  artist,  and  as  I  sketched  the  rough 
outlines  my  enthusiasm  grew.  I  had  a 
brilliant  light,  which  brought  out  every 
curve  and  angle  of  the  queer  building. 
Gradually,  in  my  absorption  as  the  pic- 
ture spread  over  the  cardboard,  I  forgot 
everything  else.  I  was  just  putting  in 
the  little  brass  cannon  that  commanded 
the  approach  of  the  fort,  when  pencil 
and  picture  were  snatched  violently  from 
my  hands.     I  sprang  up,  full  of  wrath. 

The  old  colonel  stood  before  me,  his 
face  red,  and  his  eyes  flashing  with  indig- 
nation. 

"  You  villain  of  a  spy  !  You  damned 
Yankee !"  he  cried. 

"What  do  you  mean*?  Are  you 
crazy  ?"  I  asked.  I  did  not  take  kindly 
to  such  names,  even  from  the  mouth  of 
an  old  man. 

He  was  in  a  great  rage,  for  his  next 
words  choked  him.  But  he  got  them 
out  at  last. 


58  THE   LAST   REBEL 

"  You  an  innocent  hunter !"  he  cried. 
"  And  you  were  lost  in  the  mountains ! 
That's  a  pretty  tale  !  I  suspected  you 
from  the  first,  you  infernal  Yankee  spy, 
and  now  I  have  the  proof." 

I  was  really  afraid  the  old  man  would 
fall  down  in  a  fit,  and  I  began  to  feel 
more  sorrow  than  anger. 

"  If  you'll  explain  I'm  ready  to  listen," 
I  said,  resuming  my  seat  on  the  big  stone, 
"and  when  you're  through  explaining 
I'll  thank  you  to  give  me  back  my  pen- 
cil and  sketch." 

He  seemed  to  feel  the  necessity  of 
self-control,  though  I  could  see  his  anger 
was  not  diminishing. 

"  You  claimed  to  be  a  hunter  lost  in 
the  mountains,"  he  repeated,  "  when,  in 
fact,  you  are  a  Yankee  spy  sent  here 
upon  your  miserable  business  into  the 
last  stronghold  of  the  Confederacy." 

I  laughed  loud  and  long.  I  know  I 
ought  not  to  have  done  so,  but  I  could 
not  help  it.     The  blood  rose  higher  in 


THE  LAST   REBEL  59 

his  cheeks,  and  his  lips  trembled,  but  he 
had  himself  under  firm  control  at  last. 

"  I'm  a  spy  upon  you,  am  I  ?"  I  asked. 
"Where's  the  proof V 

"  Here  it  is,"  he  said,  holding  up  my 
pencil  and  sketch  of  the  fort, — a  poor 
enough  sketch,  too.  "At  the  interces- 
sion of  my  daughter,  I  have  been  treat- 
ing you  this  morning  as  a  prisoner  of 
war,  ready  for  exchange  or  parole,  and 
your  first  use  of  this  hospitality  is  to 
draw  for  the  Yankee  government  sketches 
and  maps  of  my  fortifications." 

"  I  did  not  intend  to  take  that  sketch 
to  Washington,"  I  protested,  mildly. 

"  It  is  quite  certain  that  you  will  never 
do  so,"  he  said,  putting  sketch  and  pencil 
in  his  pocket.  "  I  have  other  uses  for 
these.     Come  with  me." 

"  Suppose  I  decline,"  I  said.  I  was 
growing  a  little  obstinate.  Moreover,  I 
was  tired  of  being  hacked  about. 

He  blew  a  little  thing  like  a  police- 
man's whistle :    three   or   four   men   in 


60  THE   LAST    REBEL 

Confederate  uniform  came  out  of  the 
fort  or  the  little  outhouses. 

"  We  will  see  whether  you  will  come," 
said  the  colonel,  as  the  men  approached. 
I  have  an  objection  to  bruises  and  undig- 
nified struggles  ;  so  I  concluded  to  go. 

"  If  you  will  kindly  lead,"  I  said,  "  I'll 
follow."  I  am  happy  to  say  that  I  re- 
tained my  calmness  and  presence  of  mind. 

"  Come  on  behind  him,  Crothers,  and 
you  too,  Turner,"  said  the  colonel. 
"  We  will  take  no  more  chances  with 
him." 

The  two  men  closed  up  behind  me, 
the  colonel  marched  on  before,  and  I  was 
the  convict  in  the  middle.  Thus  we 
stalked  back  into  Fort  Defiance.  Before 
I  entered  the  door  I  saw  Grace  Hetherill 
looking  from  an  upper  window  ;  her  face 
expressed  an  alarm  which  I  did  not  feel. 
I  smiled  at  her  in  virtue  of  our  brief 
comradeship  of  the  morning,  but  she  did 
not  smile  back :  we  had  stalked  out  of 
view  the  next  moment. 


THE   LAST   REBEL  61 

The  colonel  led  the  way  to  the  little 
room  or  cell  which  I  had  occupied  dur- 
ing the  previous  night,  and  showed  me 
in,  with  scant — very  scant — courtesy. 

"  It  will  be  necessary  to  search  you," 
he  said.  "  We  know  not  what  further 
sketches  or  maps  of  Fort  Defiance  you 
may  have  concealed  about  you." 

I  think  on  the  whole  I  am  a  tolerant 
man,  but  at  this  proposed  indignity  my 
stomach  revolted. 

"  I  will  not  submit  to  a  search,"  I  said. 
"  You  have  no  right  to  do  such  a  thing." 

"  It  is  in  perfect  accordance  with  the 
laws  of  war,"  replied  the  colonel,  very 
calmly.  "  Spies  are  always  searched.  I 
do  not  see  upon  what  ground  you  base 
your  protest." 

He  looked  very  determined,  and  I 
recalled  the  fact  that  I  was  opposed  to 
bruises  and  undignified  struggles.  More- 
over, I  remembered  the  consoling  fact 
that  I  had  a  refuge  in  injured  innocence. 
When  Crothers  went  through  my  pockets 


62  THE  LAST   REBEL 

I  made  no  resistance.  He  found  nothing 
more  dangerous  than  a  penknife,  a  hand- 
kerchief, and  some  keys  made  to  fit  doors 
very  far  from  Fort  Defiance. 

"  Are  you  satisfied  ?"  I  asked  the  col- 
onel, when  his  man  had  finished. 

"  For  the  present,"  he  replied,  shortly. 
"  I  will  have  more  to  say  to  you  before 
long." 

He  and  his  men  went  out.  They 
seemed  to  be  very  careful  about  fastening 
the  door,  for  they  spent  a  deal  of  time 
fumbling  with  the  lock. 

I  drew  my  stool  up  to  the  window  and 
took  my  seat  there,  beginning  my  second 
imprisonment  in  the  same  room ;  my 
second  state,  so  the  colonel  seemed  to 
intend,  was  to  be  much  worse  than  the 
first.  The  complex  character  of  this  old 
warrior  interested  me  and  aroused  my 
curiosity  ;  his  fierce  and  somewhat  stilted 
invective  amused  me,  now  that  he  had 
gone  from  my  presence,  and  I  was  in  a 
state  of  wonder,  too,  as  to  what  the  end 


THE   LAST   REBEL  63 

of  the  adventure  would  be.  A  rare 
adventure  it  was,  without  doubt,  and  I 
vowed  to  myself  that  it  should  not  suffer 
in  the  telling  when  I  returned  to  my 
friends  in  the  city. 

Thus  amused  and  surmising,  all  my 
vexation  at  the  colonel's  high-handed 
treatment  and  verbal  abuse  of  me  de- 
parted. Instead,  I  wondered  how  any 
man,  at  the  end  of  thirty  years,  could 
cling  so  firmly  and  at  such  a  sacrifice  to 
a  lost  and  now  vain  cause.  A  feeling  of 
hunger  put  a  stop  to  this  guessing  and 
wondering.  The  air  of  the  morning  had 
been  crisp  and  fresh,  and  I  had  worked 
hard  over  my  unfortunate  picture.  I 
needed  refreshment,  and,  since  I  owed 
the  colonel  no  politeness,  I  kicked  the 
door  violently,  in  the  hope  that  I  would 
attract  some  one  of  his  Confederate  vet- 
erans, to  whom  I  could  give  my  order. 

Though  I  made  a  deal  of  noise,  no- 
body responded,  and  I  quit  kicking.  I 
was  tempted  to  smash  the  window,  but 


64  THE   LAST   REBEL 

rages  are  exhaustive  and  ineffective,  and 
I  decided  not  to  do  so.  At  last  I  con- 
cluded to  be  a  martyr.  It  is  one  of  the 
most  consoling  of  all  things  to  feel  that 
you  are  a  martyr,  and  my  peace  of  mind 
was  restored.  I  decided  that  I  would 
not  take  the  thing  seriously,  and  that 
when  I  left  Fort  Defiance  I  would  not 
upbraid  the  colonel  for  his  abuse  of  the 
laws  of  hospitality,  so  sacred  in  the 
mountains. 

I  resumed  my  seat  by  the  window,  and 
saw  Grace  Hetherill  in  the  court.  She 
was  looking  up  at  my  window,  and  when 
she  saw  my  face  there  she  waved  a  hand- 
kerchief two  or  three  times  and  then  dis- 
appeared quickly  behind  the  wall.  Now, 
let  it  be  understood  that  I  had  no  idea 
Grace  Hetherill  was  trying  to  flirt  with 
me,  but  I  was  sure  she  had  made  a  signal 
of  some  kind.  Perhaps  she  intended  to 
encourage  me,  but  I  fancied  I  scarcely 
needed  that ;  not  in  the  year  of  our  Lord 
and  deep  peace  1896. 


THE   LAST   REBEL  65 

I  heard  them  fumbling  at  the  door 
again.  The  colonel  and  two  of  his  men 
appeared. 

"You  will  come  with  us,  if  you 
please,"  said  the  colonel,  with  the  stiff, 
military  courtesy  which  he  had  never 
abated  since  his  explosion  about  the  pic- 
ture. 

"  I  trust  it  is  to  dinner,  colonel,"  I  said, 
with  some  gayety,  which  I  really  felt. 
"  This  mountain  air  of  yours  breeds 
hunger." 

He  made  neither  denial  nor  assent, 
but  led  the  way  down-stairs.  The  two 
men  followed  close  behind  me,  as  if 
bent  upon  preserving  the  fiction  that  I 
was  a  convict  or  criminal  of  some  kind. 
Somewhat  to  my  surprise,  the  colonel  led 
the  way  into  the  large  room  which  Grace 
Hetherill  had  called  the  great  parlor.  A 
new  arrangement  of  its  furniture  had 
been  made.  A  long  table  with  chairs 
around  it  had  been  placed  in  the  centre 
of  the  room,  and  drooping  over  it  from 
5 


66  THE   LAST   REBEL 

the  ceiling  was  a  large  Confederate  flag. 
Five  or  six  men,  including  Dr.  Ambrose, 
all  dressed  in  Confederate  gray,  were 
present. 

The  colonel  saw  my  astonished  and 
questioning  look,  and  said, — 

"I  told  you,  Mr.  West,  that  every- 
thing was  to  be  done  in  accordance  with 
military  law.  The  Confederacy  would 
not  disgrace  itself  by  acting  otherwise. 
You  are  to  have  a  fair  trial." 

All  the  men  had  risen  to  their  feet  and 
saluted  the  colonel.  I  was  invited  to 
take  a  chair  at  the  foot  of  the  table ;  all 
the  others  took  their  seats  also.  Dr. 
Ambrose  again  acted  as  secretary,  the 
colonel  presiding,  and  the  court-martial 
began. 

I  saw  nothing  better  than  to  fall  in 
with  the  spirit  of  the  thing.  Let  me  re- 
peat for  the  second  time  that  I  dislike 
bruises  and  undignified  struggles,  and  I 
had  no  choice.  Accordingly,  I  pulled 
a  very  grave  and  long  face,  and  sat  in 


THE   LAST   REBEL  67 

silence,  awaiting  the  questions  that  the 
military  tribunal  might  propound  to  me. 

"  I  think,"  said  the  colonel,  "  it  would 
be  just  to  give  the  prisoner  a  full  and 
explicit  statement  of  the  charge  against 
him." 

"  I  think  so,  too,"  I  said.  "  It  would 
at  least  be  interesting,  if  not  important." 

The  colonel  frowned  at  my  flippancy. 

"  You,  sir,"  he  said,  addressing  me, 
"who  call  yourself  Arthur  West,  of 
New  York  City,  with  what  truth  we 
know  not,  are  accused  of  entering  the 
military  lines  of  the  Confederacy  in 
civilian's  attire  for  the  purpose  of  spying 
upon  our  fortifications,  armaments,  and 
other  military  supplies,  and  of  delivering 
such  information  as  you  might  obtain  to 
the  enemy.     Is  not  that  true,  sir  ?" 

"  The  war  is  over,  colonel,"  I  said. 
"  The  Confederacy  perished  more  than 
thirty  years  ago." 

"  You  speak  falsely,  sir,"  he  said,  with 
some  fierceness.     "  The  war  is  not  over, 


68  THE   LAST    REBEL 

and  the  Confederacy  has  not  perished. 
See  its  flag  over  your  head.  I  hold  my 
commission  from  President  Jefferson 
Davis  himself,  and  certainly  I  have  not 
laid  down  my  arms." 

I  smiled  a  little,  whistled  a  bar  or  two, 
and  gazed  at  the  ceiling.  The  colonel 
looked  deeply  annoyed  at  my  careless- 
ness. 

"Be  careful,  Mr.  West,"  he  said. 
"  You  are  not  helping  your  case  by  your 
conduct." 

"  Colonel,"  I  said,  "  come  to  see  me 
in  New  York,  and  I'll  show  you  the 
town." 

"Enough  of  such  levity,"  he  cried. 
"  Will  you  or  will  you  not  plead  to  the 
charge  ?" 

"Colonel,"  I  said,  "it  is  the  18th  of 
November,  1896,  and  a  very  fine  after- 
noon." 

"  I  have  warned  you  once  already  that 
you  are  prejudicing  your  own  case,"  he 
cried. 


THE  LAST   REBEL  69 

"  I  deny  the  jurisdiction  of  the  tribu- 
nal," I  said. 

"Your  denial  goes  for  nothing,"  he 
said.  "  Do  not  enter  it  upon  the  record, 
doctor.  Will  you  say  what  brought 
you  into  these  mountains'?" 

"  As  I  have  told  you  several  times,"  I 
said,  "  I  belong  to  a  hunting-party,  and 
was  lost.  I  did  not  know  I  was  near 
Fort  Defiance,  nor  had  I  ever  heard  of 
such  a  place." 

"  Let  that  be  entered  upon  the  record, 
doctor,"  said  the  colonel. 

"  I  have  it  all,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  Crothers,"  said  the  colonel,  "  put 
upon  the  table  the  sketch  which  I  found 
the  prisoner  making  this  morning." 

Crothers  obeyed. 

"What  do  you  call  that4?"  said  the 
colonel  to  me. 

"I  would  call  that,"  I  replied,  "a 
pretty  bad  picture  of  Fort  Defiance." 

My  tone  was  light,  and,  as  usual,  my 
levity  seemed   to   displease   the  colonel 


70  THE   LAST   REBEL 

very  much.  He  warned  me  for  the 
third  time  that  I  was  injuring  my 
chances,  but  I  was  not  impressed. 

"  That  sketch,"  said  he,  "  shows  the 
situation  and  fortifications  of  Fort  De- 
fiance. You  were  found  drawing  it  sur- 
reptitiously. I  ask  you  again,  what  have 
you  to  say  about  it*?" 

"Nothing,  colonel,"  I  replied,  "ex- 
cept that  when  we  dine  together  in  New 
York  we  will  discuss  its  artistic  merits  or 
lack  of  them." 

The  colonel  ran  his  hand  impatiently 
through  his  hair,  and  again  uncovered 
the  scar  of  the  deep  wound  on  his  head. 
I  wondered  in  what  battle  he  had  re- 
ceived it,  and  had  a  mind  to  ask  him 
whenever  opportunity  made  the  question 
pertinent. 

"  Make  proper  entries  on  the  record," 
he  said  to  the  doctor,  "  that  the  prisoner 
will  give  only  irrelevant  answers  to  our 
questions." 

"  It  has  been  done,"  said  the  doctor. 


THE  LAST   REBEL  71 

The  door  of  the  room  was  opened  at 
that  moment,  and  Miss  Hetherill  ap- 
peared. Her  father  rose  hastily,  and  his 
manner  showed  that  he  was  disconcerted. 

"  You  must  retire  at  once,  Grace,"  he 
said.     "  I  forbade  your  presence  here." 

"  Father,"  she  said,  "  you  must  stop 
these  proceedings.  You  must  not  harm 
Mr.  West." 

I  rose  and  bowed  in  my  best  manner. 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  intercession, 
Miss  Hetherill,"  I  said,  "  but  I  can  pro- 
tect myself." 

She  turned  her  whole  attention  to  her 
father,  neglecting  me.  I  resumed  my 
seat  and  looked  out  of  the  window, 
that  I  might  appear  to  take  no  notice  in 
case  a  family  jar  occurred.  It  is  an  im- 
mense satisfaction  to  have  a  pretty  girl 
interfere  in  one's  behalf,  and  I  was  con- 
tent merely  to  look  out  at  the  river  and 
the  yellowing  leaves. 

The  colonel  took  his  daughter  by 
the  arm  and   told  her  again   she   must 


72  THE  LAST   REBEL 

withdraw.  She  protested,  but  in  tones 
too  low  for  me  to  hear  the  exact  words. 
The  colonel  was  becoming  much  ex- 
cited. The  matter  was  ended  speedily 
by  the  withdrawal  of  Miss  Hetherill,  in 
which  I  think  she  was  wise,  for  the 
gentlemen  conducting  my  court-martial 
seemed  to  have  made  up  their  minds 
to  go  on  with  the  business.  This  was 
shown  the  more  clearly  to  me  because 
when  she  went  out  the  colonel  locked 
the  door.  I  did  not  see  him  do  it,  as  I 
kept  my  eyes  on  out-of-doors,  but  I  heard 
the  key  turning  in  the  lock. 

"  Attention,  sir  !"  said  the  colonel. 

I  was  observing  then  some  beautiful 
splashes  of  red  and  yellow  on  the 
mountain  foliage,  which  appealed  to  my 
love  of  color,  and  I  did  not  turn  my 
head. 

"  Do  you  hear  me,  sir  V  said  the  col- 
onel, provoked,  as  I  meant  him  to  be. 
"Will  you  plead  to  this  very  grave 
charge  against  you  ?" 


THE   LAST   REBEL  73 

"  Colonel,"  I  said,  "  it  is  a  splendid 
afternoon  for  a  walk,  and  we  might  get 
a  fine  view  from  the  crest  of  the  ridge 
yonder.  Shall  we  take  a  stroll  up  there 
together  ?" 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  colonel,  "  we 
have  given  the  prisoner  every  opportunity 
to  speak,  and  he  will  not  take  advantage 
of  it.  There  is  nothing  further  for  the 
court  to  do  but  to  render  its  verdict." 

All  the  men  except  the  colonel  and 
the  doctor  withdrew  to  the  far  end  of 
the  room.  They  talked  together  a  few 
moments,  and  then  returned  to  us, 
Crothers  at  their  head. 

"  What  is  your  verdict,  Mr.  Crothers'?" 
asked  the  colonel. 

"  Death,"  replied  Crothers. 

"  So  say  you  all  ?"  asked  the  colonel. 

"  So  say  we  all,"  they  said. 

"May  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  his 
soul,"  added  the  colonel,  in  the  tone  of 
a  judge. 

"  You  seem  to  be  agreed,  gentlemen," 


74  THE   LAST   REBEL 

I  said,  looking  around  from  the  win- 
dow. 

"  Undoubtedly,"  said  the  colonel. 
"  Mr.  Secretary,  see  that  the  sentence  of 
the  court  is  entered  upon  the  record." 

"  It  has  been  done,"  replied  the  doctor. 

"  Then  if  you  have  amused  yourselves 
sufficiently,  gentlemen,"  I  said, "  I  would 
like  to  go  back  to  my  room,  as  I  am 
tired.  I'd  thank  you  also  to  send  me 
something  to  eat,  as  I  am  hungry,  too." 

"That  much  courtesy  is  due  you," 
said  the  colonel. 

Rising,  he  led  the  way,  and  two  of 
the  men  closed  in  behind  me,  according 
to  the  prescribed  rule.  Thus  we  marched 
back  to  my  room,  where  I  was  locked 
in  and  left  to  wait  for-  food,  spending 
such  time  as  I  chose  meanwhile  in  re- 
flections upon  the  fate  of  a  man  con- 
demned to  death,  an  advantage  that  I 
had  never  enjoyed  in  the  first  person  be- 
fore. I  can  say  with  the  utmost  respect 
for  the  truth  that  my  chief  sensation  was 


THE   LAST   REBEL  75 

still  one  of  curiosity.  I  was  not  accus- 
tomed to  such  adventures,  and,  as  I 
knew  of  no  precedents,  I  could  make  no 
predictions. 

All  such  thoughts  were  interrupted  by 
the  arrival  of  Crothers  with  my  supper ; 
and  I  perceived  that  a  man  under  sen- 
tence of  death  may  become  as  hungry 
as  one  with  freedom  and  many  years 
to  enjoy.  While  Crothers  spread  the 
banquet,  another  soldier  walked  up  and 
down  in  the  hall,  and  just  before  Croth- 
ers shut  the  door  I  caught  the  steel- 
blue  of  his  rifle-barrel.  Evidently  they 
were  keeping  a  good  guard  over  me, 
which  seemed  to  me  a  waste  of  thought 
and  strength.  But  they  had  kept  in 
mind  the  principle  that  it  costs  nothing 
to  be  courteous  to  a  dying  man,  and 
had  sent  me  a  most  excellent  repast, 
from  which  the  prospect  of  dying  took 
no  sauce. 

"  Mr.  Crothers,"  said  I,  as  I  poured  a 
cup  of  hot  coffee  and  sniffed  the  aroma 


76  THE   LAST   REBEL 

of  a  piece  of  fresh  and  well-cooked 
venison,  all  mine,  "  how  long  have  you 
served  Colonel  Hetherill  V 

"I  enlisted  in  his  regiment  in  '6l," 
replied  Crothers, "  and  he's  still  my  com- 
manding officer.  That  makes  thirty-five 
years  by  my  reckoning." 

"  How  much  longer  do  you  expect  to 
serve  him  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Until  the  war  is  over,"  he  replied, 
briefly. 

Evidently  here  was  a  man  of  the 
colonel's  own  mind  and  temper. 

The  very  good  dinner  put  me  in  an 
excellent  humor. 

"  Mr.  Crothers,"  I  asked,  "  am  I  to  be 
shot  or  hanged  ?" 

"  You'll  have  to  ask  the  colonel,"  he 
replied,  "  though  I  think  it's  commoner 
to  hang  spies  than  to  shoot  'em." 

He  spoke  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone. 

"  Mr.  Crothers,"  I  began  again,  "  do 
you  think  I  am  alarmed  ?" 
-     "  I'd  be  in  your  place,"  he  replied. 


THE  LAST   REBEL  77 

After  this  I  could  not  get  him  to  con- 
tinue any  form  of  debate.  He  merely 
sat  in  obstinate  silence  while  I  finished 
the  supper.  To  mark  my  disapproval 
of  his  manners,  I  turned  my  back  upon 
him  and  resumed  my  old  occupation 
of  gazing  out  of  the  window.  My  sen- 
tence of  death  had  made  no  change  in 
the  prospect.  The  lights  and  colors  on 
mountain  and  forest  were  as  vivid  as 
ever.  Where  the  edges  of  the  dying 
leaves  had  turned  red,  the  forest  glowed 
as  with  fire ;  then  came  patches  of  soft 
brown,  and  beyond  were  streaks  of  yel- 
low gold.  It  was  a  beautiful  world, 
unhurt  by  its  wildness. 

Crothers  took  up  the  tray  of  empty 
dishes,  and  bade  me  a  polite  good-night, 
which  I  returned  without  bad  feeling. 
I  was  rather  glad  he  had  gone,  since  a 
man  who  will  not  talk  to  me  when  I 
want  to  talk  to  him  annoys  me. 

While  the  sun  was  setting  and  the 
night  coming  on  to  take  its  place,  I  tried 


78  THE   LAST   REBEL 

to  decide  how  I  would  avenge  myself 
upon  Colonel  Hetherill  for  his  treatment 
of  me.  To  me  it  seemed  a  somewhat 
complicated  question,  as  he  had  certainly 
saved  my  life,  though  the  saving  of  it 
gave  him  no  right  to  the  taking  of  it, 
and  if  I  injured  him  I  would  be  sure  to 
injure  his  daughter,  who  undoubtedly 
had  shown  consideration  for  me.  I  gave 
it  up,  leaving  the  problem  to  its  own 
solution,  and  continued  to  sit  by  the 
window,  looking  out  at  nothing.  Thus 
importantly  occupied,  I  heard  the  usual 
fumbling  at  the  door  which  betokened  a 
visitor.  I  was  guessing  whether  it  would 
be  the  colonel  or  Crothers,  when  I  saw 
it  was  neither,  but  Grace  Hetherill. 
She  stopped  to  close  the  door  very  care- 
fully, and  when  she  turned  to  me  she 
showed  excitement.  I  had  risen  and  was 
preparing  to  make  the  compliments  cus- 
tom demands  from  a  young  man  to  a 
young  woman,  when  she  exclaimed,  in 
nervous  tones, — 


THE   LAST   REBEL  79 

"  Mr.  West,  you  must  escape  from 
this  house  to-night !" 

"Escape,  Miss  Hetherill'?"  I  said. 
"  Where  would  I  go  %  It  is  comfortable 
here,  although  my  movements  are  some- 
what restricted.  But  out  there  in  those 
wild  mountains  I  would  starve  to  death." 

I  spoke  lightly,  but  my  manner  seemed 
to  increase  her  apprehensions.  She  came 
closer  and  put  her  hand  upon  my  arm. 

"  Mr.  West,"  she  said,  "  you  do  not 
yet  understand  your  situation  and  its 
dangers." 

"  I  see  no  occasion  for  alarm,  Miss 
Hetherill,"  I  said.  "Your  father  has 
gratified  his  whim,  and  I  shall  not  com- 
plain of  the  trouble  he  has  caused  me. 
It  might  be  made  a  rough  sort  of  jest  for 
him  if  I  carried  the  news  to  Washing- 
ton ;  but  I  see  no  reason  why  I  should 
do  so." 

I  felt  her  hand  grip  my  arm  in  her 
excitement. 

"  This  is  no  play,  no  jest !"  she  cried. 


80  THE   LAST    REBEL 

"Do  you  think  that  my  father  looks 
upon  this  fort,  the  weapons  in  it  and  the 
flag  over  it,  as  a  mere  whim*?  They 
are  the  most  real  of  all  things  to  him." 

I  was  impressed  by  her  earnestness  and 
strong  feeling.  I  was  about  to  say  that 
if  her  father  looked  upon  such  things  as 
realities  I  was  sorry  for  him,  but  I  re- 
membered that  I  should  not  speak  so 
bluntly  to  her  father's  daughter. 

"  I  tell  you  they  are  realities !"  she 
exclaimed.  "  It  is  a  reality  that  you  are 
held  a  prisoner  here,  a  condemned  spy ; 
and  it  is  a  reality  that  you  are  to  be  shot 
as  such  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning." 

"What?  Is  this  the  truth?"  I  ex- 
claimed. 

"  Crothers  and  another  man  are  digging 
your  grave  now,"  she  said. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?"  I  asked,  still 
partly  incredulous. 

"  I  have  seen  them  at  work,"  she  re- 
plied. 

I  was  more  impressed  than  ever.     I 


THE   LAST   REBEL  81 

leave  it  to  all  if  it  is  not  a  trifle  hard 
upon  a  man's  nerves  to  receive  the  news 
that  other  men  are  digging  his  grave  for 
him.  Moreover,  her  manner  left  no 
doubts.  I  was  seized  with  a  sudden 
shudder  of  the  nerves  and  chill  of  the 
blood.  I  saw  that  this  fanatical  old 
colonel  would  carry  out  his  farce  to  the 
end,  and  that  end  was  my  execution. 

"Do  you  believe  me  now?"  she 
asked. 

"  Yes  ;  but  what  am  I  to  do  ?"  I  said, 
in  despair. 

"You  must  leave  Fort  Defiance  to- 
night," she  said. 

"  Am  I  to  go  up  through  the  roof  or 
down  through  the  floor  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Do  not  jest  with  your  danger,"  she 
replied,  both  reproof  and  reproach  in  her 
voice. 

"  But  when  you  speak  of  escape,  I  see 
no  way  to  obey  you,  Miss  Hetherill,"  I 
said. 

"  Do  you  suppose  that  I  am  without 


82  THE   LAST   REBEL 

influence  in  my  father's  house  ?"  she 
said,  with  some  haughtiness.  "  I  have 
prepared  the  way,  and  will  lead.  You 
have  nothing  to  do  but  follow  me." 

She  opened  the  door  again,  and  I  saw 
that  no  guard  was  in  the  hall.  It  was 
not  a  time  to  waste  energy  upon  one's 
baggage  or  mode  of  taking  leave,  and 
without  ado  I  followed  her. 

"  Step  as  lightly  as  you  can,"  she  said. 

I  was  willing  enough  to  obey  her. 
She  had  made  me  see  the  truth  about 
her  father,  and  while  I  was  opposed  to 
death  under  any  circumstances  I  wished 
least  of  all  to  face  it  very  early  on  a  cold 
morning,  and  perhaps  have  my  body  tum- 
bled into  a  ditch  afterward.  This,  too,  in 
the  year  of  peace  1896.  Accordingly,  I 
shod  my  feet  with  felt.  We  passed  from 
the  upper  hall  to  the  lower  in  safety,  and 
reached  the  front  door.  Then  I  saw  that 
in  fact  she  had  prepared  the  way  for  me. 
No  guard  was  there,  nor  did  she  even 
need  to  unlock  any  bolts.     She  pushed 


THE   LAST   REBEL  83 

the  door  open,  and  in  rushed  a  flood  of 
the  cool  night  air.  I  knew  then  that  the 
wind  of  heaven  was  the  wind  of  freedom. 

The  outside  of  Fort  Defiance  seemed 
to  be,  like  the  inside,  without  guards. 
The  river  plashed  and  gurgled  in  the 
dusk,  and  the  dry  leaves  rustled  as  the 
wind  blew  them  upon  one  another,  but 
that  was  all.  The  fort  seemed  to  be 
asleep.  The  muzzle  of  the  little  brass 
cannon  that  swept  the  drawbridge  was 
hidden  in  the  darkness,  and  the  cannon 
was  without  threat. 

Miss  Hetherill  left  me  at  the  door  a 
few  moments,  and  when  she  returned 
she  thrust  into  my  hands  a  military 
knapsack  which  seemed  to  be  well  filled. 

"  It  contains  food,"  she  said :  "  you  will 
need  it." 

I  hung  the  knapsack  over  my  shoulder 
and  followed  her,  for  she  was  already 
leading  the  way  to  the  drawbridge, 
which  was  down  and  unguarded.  A 
few  steps  took  us  across.     I  looked  back 


84  THE   LAST   REBEL 

at  Fort  Defiance,  a  solid  dark  mass,  no 
light  anywhere  showing  that  it  was  ten- 
anted. 

"  Miss  Hetherill,"  I  said,  and  I  was 
speaking  sincerely,  "  you  have  done 
much  for  me,  and  I  am  very  grateful, 
but  do  not  go  any  farther.  I  can  find 
my  way  now,  and  I  will  say  good-by  to 
you  here." 

"  No,"  she  said  ;  "  I  will  take  you  out 
of  the  valley  and  put  you  on  your  road." 

Her  tone  did  not  admit  of  protest,  and 
without  a  word  I  followed  her.  She  led 
the  way  across  the  valley  directly  toward 
the  nearest  mountain  slope.  I  will  ad- 
mit that  on  this  journey  I  was  cherish- 
ing a  feeling  of  satisfaction.  It  is  not 
only  pleasant  to  have  a  pretty  girl  interest 
herself  in  one's  behalf,  but  still  pleas- 
anter,  if  one's  life  must  be  saved  at  all, 
to  have  it  saved  by  that  same  pretty  girl. 

At  the  point  to  which  we  were  trend- 
ing, the  first  slope  of  the  mountain  was 
not  distant  more  than  half  a  mile.     The 


THE   LAST   REBEL  85 

path  was  clear,  and  we  were  soon  there. 
I  felt  like  uttering  my  thanks  again,  but 
such  words  seemed  so  futile  that  I  re- 
mained silent. 

"Keep  to  the  southwest,"  said  Miss 
Hetherill.  "  Don't  forget  that.  Watch 
the  sun  to-morrow,  and  remember  always 
to  travel  to  the  southwest.  If  you  do 
that  you  will  reach  the  settlements  be- 
fore your  food  is  exhausted." 

"  Good-by,  Miss  Hetherill,"  I  said. 

"  Good-by,"  said  she. 

She  was  standing  before  me,  and  she 
looked  so  fair  in  the  moonlight  that  I 
stooped  down  suddenly  and  kissed  her. 

I  do  not  know  why  I  did  it,  I  had 
known  her  only  a  day  or  so,  but  I  had 
no  apologies  to  make  then,  and  I  will 
make  none  now. 

She  stared  at  me  a  moment,  her  face 
quite  red.  Then,  without  speaking,  she 
turned  and  walked  swiftly  toward  Fort 
Defiance,  while  I  slowly  climbed  the 
first  slopes  of  the  mountains. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

AMONG    THE    PEAKS. 

COME  yards  up  I  came  to  a  ledge,  upon 
which  I  sat  and  took  another  look 
at  Fort  Defiance.  I  saw  a  light  figure 
cross  the  drawbridge,  and  then  up  went 
the  bridge  itself.  I  resumed  my  journey, 
half  walking,  half  climbing,  and  a  half- 
hour  later,  when  I  looked  back  again, 
I  was  much  astonished  to  see  lights 
blazing  at  every  window  of  Fort  De- 
fiance. I  watched  for  some  minutes,  but 
I  was  too  far  away  to  see  figures  moving 
or  anything  else  that  would  tell  me  the 
cause  of  the  lights. 

Convinced  that  it  was  no  time  for  idle 
curiosity  about  illuminations,  I  turned 
my  face   toward   the   southwest,   deter- 

86 


THE   LAST   REBEL  87 

mined  to  carry  out  my  instructions. 
Yet  I  saw  readily  that  my  problem  was 
not  yet  wholly  solved.  I  had  escaped 
from  the  fort,  but  I  had  not  escaped 
from  the  mountains,  which  at  that  hour 
looked  very  dark,  very  bleak,  and  very 
lonely.  I  picked  out  a  large  clear  star 
burning  in  the  southwest  just  above  the 
tip  of  the  highest  peak,  and  made  it  my 
guide. 

It  was  rough  travelling,  but  the  night 
was  cold,  and  my  limbs  had  been  stiff- 
ening in  confinement.  The  sharp  air  and 
the  exercise  were  a  tonic  to  me.  The 
blood  ran  freely  through  my  veins,  and 
I  felt  strong  and  buoyant.  I  resolved 
to  walk  all  night,  a  resolution  born  partly 
of  necessity,  for  I  could  not  lie  down 
and  sleep  without  finding  every  joint 
stiffened  in  the  morning  by  cold. 

With  my  eyes  fixed  on  my  star,  I 
tramped  steadily  to  the  southwest.  It  was 
not  an  especially  dark  night,  but  I  kept 
as  closely  as  I  could  to  the  valleys  or 


88  THE   LAST   REBEL 

rifts,  and  the  up-lift  of  the  peaks  above 
me  hid  half  the  skies.  I  am  not  super- 
stitious, and  I  think  I  possess  at  least 
average  courage,  but  the  silence  and  so- 
lemnity of  the  mountains  awed  me  and 
made  me  lonely  and  afraid.  I  seemed 
to  be  alone  in  the  universe,  save  for  the 
misty  peaks,  which  nodded  to  each  other 
and  never  noticed  me.  It  may  be  flat- 
tering to  one's  vanity  to  feel  that  he  is 
the  only  man  in  the  world,  but  it  soon 
grows  tiresome.  I  longed  for  company, 
a  chum,  somebody  to  talk  to  me. 

I  may  be  skilful  in  analyzing  the 
feelings  of  others,  but  I  have  little  suc- 
cess with  my  own.  As  the  chill  lone- 
liness thickened  around  me,  I  wished 
again  for  Fort  Defiance.  Out  of  dan- 
ger now,  the  danger  that  I  had  been 
in  seemed  so  little,  incredible  perhaps. 
After  all,  I  might  have  yielded  too 
easily  to  a  frightened  girl's  fears.  But 
she  had  been  frightened  on  my  account. 
That  was  a  tender  thought.     I  smiled  in 


THE   LAST   REBEL  89 

the  darkness  at  the  thought  and  the 
memory  of  that  early  kiss,  for  which  I 
was  not  sorry. 

The  cold  darkness  of  the  mountains 
and  the  warm  walls  of  Fort  Defiance 
began  to  contend  for  first  place  in  my 
mind.  The  belief  that  in  the  flush  of 
the  interview  with  his  daughter  I  had 
overrated  the  fanaticism  of  the  colonel 
grew,  and  my  sense  of  loneliness  egged 
it  on  until  it  became  conviction. 

The  strength  and  courage  which  I  had 
felt  at  the  start  waned.  The  cold  slid 
into  my  bones  and  chilled  the  marrow. 
I  sat  for  a  few  moments  on  a  big  stone 
at  the  bottom  of  a  great  cleft,  that  I 
might  rest  myself.  Over  the  knife-edge 
of  the  tallest  ridge,  a  moon  very  white 
and  cold  looked  at  me  as  if  wondering 
what  I  was  doing  in  an  otherwise  de- 
serted world.  To  this  I  could  return  no 
answer.  All  my  intentions  were  failing  ; 
I  was  uncertain  of  myself.  The  advice 
to  me   to  push    on   continually  to  the 


9o  THE   LAST    REBEL 

southwest  had  been  clear  and  decisive,  and 
I  had  been  following  it  most  diligently 
for  at  least  three  hours.  But  there  was 
my  star  in  the  southwest  burning  as 
brilliantly  as  ever  and  also  as  far  away 
as  ever.  Above  me  were  the  dusky 
skies,  the  moon  calm  and  cold,  and 
about  me  was  the  wilderness.  I  shut  my 
eyes  and  saw  my  room  in  Fort  Defiance, 
a  cell  still,  but  sheltered  and  warm. 

The  wind  began  to  blow.  It  had  a 
sharp  edge  of  ice,  and  I  shivered.  Then 
I  sprang  up  in  fright  as  a  great  groan 
came  down  the  cleft,  passed  me,  and 
went  on  among  the  mountains,  through 
valley  and  valley,  between  cliff  and  cliff, 
and  from  peak  to  peak.  I  knew,  after 
my  first  start,  what  it  was,  but  it  fright- 
ened me  as  if  it  had  been  a  ghost, 
though  I  am  a  full-grown  man,  and,  as  I 
said  before,  I  think  I  have  at  least  av- 
erage courage.  It  was  the  wind,  gath- 
ered and  compressed  in  the  narrow  deep 
ravines  between  the  tall  cliffs,  and  driven 


THE   LAST    REBEL  91 

on  by  other  winds  behind,  until  it  cried 
out  like  a  man  in  deadly  pain.  Not 
until  then,  when  the  mountains  were 
awake  and  groaning,  did  I  comprehend 
how  deep  and  intense  may  become  the 
sense  of  desolation.  I  had  noticed  the 
wonderful  repetition  of  the  echoes  when 
I  fired  my  rifle  to  attract  the  attention  of 
the  colonel,  but  at  night  these  echoes 
were  deepened  and  carried  faster  from 
peak  to  peak  and  ridge  to  ridge.  As 
the  wind  gained  in  strength  and  swept 
through  the  trees  and  bushes  on  the 
slopes  and  crests  as  well  as  through  the 
ravines  and  valleys,  new  tones  were 
added,  and  I  listened  to  the  chorus  of  the 
mountains.  The  groan  changed  to  a 
deep  bass ;  with  it  were  mingled  the 
flutter  and  rustle  of  the  dry  leaves  as  the 
wind  blew  them  together,  leaf  on  leaf, 
and  the  higher  note  of  a  wandering 
breeze  as  it  escaped  from  a  ravine  and 
swept  triumphantly  over  ridge  and  peak. 
I  was  content  to  listen  awhile  to  the 


92  THE   LAST    REBEL 

music  of  the  mountains,  but  I  found 
that  my  joints  were  growing  stiff  with 
cold.  One  needs  more  than  music, 
however  sublime,  on  a  dark  night  in 
November,  unsheltered  save  by  the  skies. 
I  took  out  some  food,  ate  it,  and  re- 
sumed my  journey  without  much  courage, 
however,  I  will  confess.  My  star  was 
still  there,  but,  like  the  moon,  it  was  un- 
sympathetic and  cold,  and  it  travelled 
due  southwest  as  fast  as  I. 

I  think  I  was  a  bit  shaken  by  my  sit- 
uation and  my  inability  to  drive  away 
the  sense  of  desolation.  It  is  easy 
enough  to  say  that  superstition  and  all 
such  kindred  things  are  folly,  as  perhaps 
they  are ;  but  put  a  man  down  where  I 
was,  let  him  go  through  what  I  had  gone 
through,  and  he  will  have  a  ghost  gib- 
bering at  him  from  every  peak.  So, 
when  I  saw  a  light  flaming  on  a  crest 
where  no  light  had  been  before,  I  was 
not  at  all  sure  whether  I  saw  it  with  eyes 
real  or  imaginary.     It  was  no  star ;  the 


THE   LAST    REBEL  93 

flame  was  too  bright,  too  red,  and  flick- 
ered too  much,  for  that.  Presently  a 
light  blazed  up  on  another  hill-top,  and 
then  on  a  third,  and  then  on  a  fourth. 
They  were  moved  about  as  if  signalling 
to  each  other,  and  I  was  positive  that  I 
was  growing  light-headed.  It  would  re- 
quire no  common,  normal  pair  of  eyes 
to  see  so  many  lights  dancing  a  jig.  All 
the  hill-tops  seemed  to  be  afire,  and  I 
was  quite  sure  that  was  not  natural. 

The  sound  of  a  trumpet,  loud,  clear, 
and  penetrating,  mingled  with  the  song 
of  the  winds,  and  swept  through  the 
mountains,  echo  after  echo.  The  mili- 
tary note  rose  above  all  the  rest,  and 
there  by  the  first  light,  which  formed  the 
background  for  it  and  made  it  visible,  I 
saw  a  human  figure.  I  had  no  doubt  that 
this  was  the  man  who  blew  the  trumpet, 
and  it  meant  that  the  colonel  and  his 
men  were  seeking  to  retake  me.  The 
trumpet  was  blown  again,  and  all  the 
lights  except  the  first  were  extinguished. 


94  THE   LAST   REBEL 

As  I  said,  I  am  unable  to  analyze 
myself,  and  while  a  few  moments  ago  I 
wished  to  be  back  at  Fort  Defiance,  I 
wished  nothing  of  the  kind  now  that  I 
knew  the  colonel  and  his  men  were  seek- 
ing to  take  me  there.  I  pushed  myself 
among  some  bushes,  determined  that  I 
would  escape. 

With  mountain  heaped  on  mountain 
and  the  night  helping,  it  would  seem 
that  it  was  an  easy  enough  matter  for 
me  to  escape  ;  but  I  was  not  so  sure.  I 
had  followed  perforce  some  sort  of  path 
or  trace,  because  it  was  the  only  way  in 
which  I  could  go,  and  doubtless  these 
men  knew  the  way  well. 

The  trumpets  blew  one  more  blast, 
and  from  my  covert  I  saw  the  last 
light  extinguished.  Listening  intently,  I 
could  hear  only  the  sob  of  the  wind 
down  the  great  slash  in  the  mountains, 
at  the  bottom  of  which  I  lay.  I  sup- 
posed that  the  flaming  up  of  the  lights 
and  the   blowing  of  the  trumpets  had 


THE   LAST   REBEL  95 

been  some  sort  of  signal  to  draw  the 
men  together.  I  rose,  but  I  could  not 
see  them  either.  I  thought  once  of  try- 
ing to  climb  the  side  of  the  mountain, 
but  I  feared  a  stumble  or  a  slip,  the  noise 
of  which  would  draw  them  to  me.  I 
pressed  farther  back  into  the  bushes,  but 
just  as  I  made  myself  snug  several  men 
turned  the  angle  of  the  ravine,  and  one 
of  them  held  up  a  bright  lantern.  .  Its 
flame  fell  directly  upon  me. 

"  Take  aim,"  shouted  the  colonel. 

The  six  who  were  with  him  covered 
me  with  their  rifles.  But  I  had  no  desire 
to  be  shot. 

"  It's  all  right,  colonel,"  I  said.  "  I'll 
surrender.     I'm  your  prisoner." 

He  ordered  the  men  to  lower  their 
weapons.  I  walked  out  of  the  bushes 
toward  the  colonel.  There  was  some 
comfort  in  the  company  of  my  kind, 
even  if  I  was  to  be  the  prisoner  and  they 
the  free  men,  an  inequality  which  I 
thought  was  not  deserved. 


96  THE  LAST   REBEL 

"  We  retook  you  more  easily  than  we 
thought,"  said  the  colonel. 

"  Then  double  my  debt  of  gratitude 
to  you,  colonel,"  I  said.  "  You  may 
have  saved  me  again  from  death  by  star- 
vation." 

He  said  nothing  to  this,  and  I  added, 
"  Suppose  we  rest  a  little.     I  am  tired." 

My  bones  in  truth  were  weary ;  we 
were  a  long  way  from  Fort  Defiance,  and 
the  road  was  rough.  I  contemplated  the 
journey  with  dismay. 

The  colonel,  who  seemed  to  be 
highly  pleased  at  my  recapture,  was  in 
good  temper.  He  took  a  long  flask 
from  his  inside  pocket  and  shook  it.  A 
cheerful  gurgle  came  forth.  He  drew 
the  cork  with  a  loud  plunk,  and  a  pleas- 
ant odor  permeated  the  air. 

"  Try  that,"  he  said,  holding  out  the 
flask. 

I  tried  it,  and  great  was  the  result 
thereof.  As  the  rich  red  liquor  trickled 
down  my  throat,  I  could  feel   strength 


THE  LAST   REBEL  97 

flowing  back  into  muscle  and  bone,  and 
a  warm  glow  crept  through  all  the  veins 
of  my  chilled  body. 

I  handed  the  flask  back  to  the  colonel 
with  my  heart-felt  thanks. 

"  I  think  I  will  try  a  little  myself,"  he 
said,  and  the  pleasant  gurgle  was  heard 
again. 

"  Colonel,"  I  said,  "  you  may  shoot 
me  to-morrow,  but  for  heaven's  sake 
don't  make  me  walk  all  the  way  back 
to  Fort  Defiance  to-night." 

The  liquor  had  put  him  in  a  still 
better  humor. 

"  I  will  not,"  he  said.  "  Besides,  I  am 
tired  myself." 

He  gave  a  few  directions  to  his  men, 
and  they  began  to  gather  brushwood, 
which  was  scattered  about  in  abundance. 
They  heaped  it  up  in  a  sheltered  corner 
of  the  ravine,  and  the  colonel,  taking  the 
candle  out  of  his  lantern,  touched  the 
flame  to  the  dry  boughs.  Up  it  blazed, 
and,   the    wind    catching    it,    the   eager 

7 


98  THE   LAST   REBEL 

flame  leaped  from  bough  to  bough.  The 
wood  snapped  and  cracked  as  the  fire 
seized  it,  and  the  blaze,  rising  high,  threw 
its  warm  and  friendly  light  upon  our  faces. 

Though  a  captive  and  with  only  twelve 
hours  or  so  of  life  before  me,  according 
to  the  colonel's  limitations,  I  achieved 
comfort.  I  made  myself  at  home,  and, 
pulling  up  a  billet,  sat  down  on  it  before 
the  fire,  where  body  and  eyes  could  feast 
on  its  warmth  and  light. 

The  fire  by  contrast  made  the  dark- 
ness beyond  its  radius  darker.  The 
colonel  shivered,  and  then  imitated  my 
example,  turning  his  palms  to  the  flames. 

"Makes  me  think  of  the  winter  of 
'64,"  he  said. 

"  Which  was  a  long  time  ago,"  I  re- 
plied. 

"  But  it  may  come  again,"  said  he. 

"  Never,"  said  I ;  "  the  cause  is  dead 
and  buried,  colonel,  and  the  mourners 
are  few  at  this  late  day." 

He  turned  his  head  away  impatiently, 


THE  LAST   REBEL  99 

as  if  he  would  not  argue  with  a  prisoner. 
His  men  kept  silent  too.  I  had  hoped 
they  would  hear,  but  I  could  not  say. 
They  as  well  as  I  had  brought  food  with 
them :  we  broke  bread  and  ate. 

The  fire,  which  rose  yards  high,  and 
crackled  as  it  ate  into  the  wood,  threw 
streaks  of  light  on  the  near  slopes.  Be- 
yond, the  darkness  had  settled  down  over 
peak  and  ridge,  and  the  moon  was  be- 
hind a  veil  of  clouds.  The  wind,  rising 
again,  moaned  loudly  down  the  ravine 
and  swept  the  dry  leaves  before  it.  I 
would  not  have  escaped  if  I  could. 

"Winter  will  soon  be  here,"  said 
Crothers,  who  sat  on  one  side  of  me. 

"  Perhaps  it's  as  well,"  said  Colonel 
Hetherill.  "  It  will  make  it  the  harder 
for  any  enemy  to  reach  Fort  Defiance." 

A  blast  of  wind  struck  me  on  the 
back  of  the  neck  and  slipped  down  my 
collar  like  a  stream  of  ice-water.  I 
edged  up  within  scorching  distance  of 
the  fire. 


ioo  THE   LAST   REBEL 

"  It  is  cold,"  said  the  colonel,  replying 
to  my  thought  as  if  I  had  spoken  aloud. 
He  too  edged  up  to  the  fire,  and  all  his 
men  did  likewise.  No  one  regarded  me 
with  hostile  eyes.  For  the  moment  the 
military  laws  of  the  Confederacy  rested 
lightly.  I  don't  understand  how  people 
can  fight  in  the  dark  and  when  it's  at 
zero. 

Our  faces  wTere  warm, — a  little  too 
warm,  perhaps, — but  our  backs  were 
cold.  I  suggested  to  the  colonel  that 
we  build  another  fire  a  few  yards  off  and 
sit  between  the  two.  He  looked  at  me 
approvingly,  and  even  said  nothing  when 
I  helped  to  gather  brushwood  for  the 
second  fire,  just  as  if  I  were  one  of  the 
party  and  could  go  and  come  where  I 
wished.  While  I  was  busy  thus,  I  no- 
ticed that  he  was  looking  at  me  very 
intently  and  twisting  his  long  white 
moustache  as  if  he  were  in  doubt.  I 
guessed  that  he  would  have  something 
to    say  to   me    soon ;    and  I  was   not 


THE   LAST   REBEL  101 

wrong.  We  lighted  the  second  heap  of 
wood,  and  the  blaze  sputtered  and  roared 
as  if  it  would  outdo  its  comrade  ten  yards 
away.  We  lolled  in  the  heat  for  a  few 
minutes,  and  then  the  colonel,  as  I  had 
expected  he  would,  beckoned  to  me. 

We  went  on  the  far  side  of  the  second 
fire,  where  none  of  the  men  would  hear  us. 

"What  is  it,  colonel*?"  I  asked,  po- 
litely.    "  Can  I  help  you  in  any  way  ?" 

"  You  can,"  he  replied,  "  and  in  help- 
ing me  you  will  help  yourself  at  the 
same  time." 

"  Then  it  ought  to  be  easy  for  us  to 
strike  a  bargain,"  I  said. 

"  I  want  some  information  from  you," 
said  the  colonel.  "  Your  escape  was 
discovered  soon  after  it  was  made,  but 
that  escape  would  not  have  been  possible 
without  assistance.  Name  the  man  to 
me,  and  I  will  spare  your  life ;  I  will 
send  you  back  to  your  own  country." 

My  first  impulse  was  to  speak  vio- 
lently.    This  was  the  first  time  he  had 


ioz  THE   LAST   REBEL 

touched  the  quick.  But  unrestrained 
anger  is  seldom  worth  the  while. 

"  Colonel,"  I  said,  "  I  may  be  a  Yan- 
kee spy,  as  you  call  me,  but  you  can 
scarcely  expect  me  to  tell  you  that." 
Nor  would  I  have  told  him,  even  had 
not  the  traitor  been  his  own  daughter. 

The  colonel  looked  confused,  and 
hesitated.  Presently  he  said,  "  I  should 
not  have  made  you  the  offer,  and  I 
apologize ;  perhaps  I  have  underesti- 
mated you." 

This  was  not  very  flattering,  as  it 
could  be  construed  different  ways,  but 
I  thanked  him  nevertheless,  and  we  went 
back  to  our  good  position  between  the 
fires.  The  colonel  was  silent  and  looked 
thoughtful.  I  guessed  that  he  was  try- 
ing to  divine  the  traitor  and  would  not 
let  the  matter  drop. 

I  had  eaten  heartily,  and  the  food,  the 
heat,  and  the  weariness  together  made  a 
strong  soporific.  My  head  nodded,  and 
my  eyelids  drooped.     The  colonel,  too, 


THE  LAST  REBEL  103 

looked  as  if  he  would  like  to  go  to  sleep. 
The  men  had  blankets  with  them,  and  I 
made  a  proposition. 

"  Colonel,"  I  said,  "  give  me  a  blanket 
and  let  me  go  to  sleep.  You  needn't 
guard  me ;  I  pledge  you  my  word  I 
won't  attempt  to  escape  to-night." 

He  took  one  look  at  the  banked-up 
darkness.  The  wind  made  a  long  moan 
down  the  ravine. 

"  I  don't  think  you  will  try  it,"  he  said, 
dryly.     "  Crothers,  give  him  a  blanket." 

Crothers  tossed  me  the  blanket.  I 
rolled  myself  in  it  and  went  to  sleep. 

Far  in  the  night  I  awoke.  I  might 
have  gone  back  to  sleep  again  in  a  mo- 
ment or  two,  but  a  bough  burned 
through  fell  into  the  ashes,  sending  up  a 
shower  of  sparks.  I  held  open  my 
sleepy  eyes  and  looked  around  at  the 
colonel's  little  army,  which  to  the  last 
man  lay  stretched  upon  its  back  or  side 
fast  asleep.  Two  high  privates  were  even 
snoring.     The  wind  was  still  strong,  and 


io4  THE   LAST   REBEL 

its  groans  as  it  swept  through  the  ravine 
rose  to  a  shriek.  The  fires  had  burned 
down  a  bit,  and  were  masses  of  red 
coals. 

Colonel  Hetherill  was  lying  next  to 
me.  The  light  from  the  fire  fell  directly 
upon  his  thin,  worn,  old  face.  In  my 
soul  I  felt  pity  for  him.  His  exposed 
hands  looked  chilled,  and  his  blanket 
seemed  light  for  a  man  whose  blood  had 
been  thinned  by  age.  My  own  blanket 
was  heavy  and  wide.  I  threw  the  cor- 
ner of  it  over  him,  and  in  another  min- 
ute I  yielded  again  to  sleep. 

I  was  the  last  to  awake  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  I  do  not  know  how  much 
longer  I  would  have  slept  had  not  the 
colonel  pulled  me  violently  by  the 
shoulder.  The  sun  was  risen  already 
above  the  mountains,  and  peak  and 
ravine  shone  in  the  light.  One  of  the 
men  had  produced  some  coffee  and  a 
small  tin  coffee-pot,  and  was  making  the 
best  of  all  morning  drinks  over  the  fire. 


THE   LAST   REBEL  105 

Another  was  frying  strips  of  bacon. 
Evidently  the  Confederate  army  meant 
to  treat  itself  well.  I  sniffed  the  pleasing 
aromas,  bethinking  me  that  as  the  only 
prisoner  present  I  was  entitled  to  my 
share. 

The  colonel  did  not  neglect  me. 
When  my  turn  came  the  tin  cup  filled 
with  coffee  was  passed  me,  and  I  ate  my 
due  allotment  of  the  bacon.  The  col- 
onel, however,  was  stiff  and  restrained. 
His  military  coolness  returned  with  the 
daylight,  and  his  little  army  reflected  his 
manners.  My  attempts  at  conversation 
were  repelled,  and  soon  it  became  ap- 
parent to  me  that  I  was  the  condemned 
spy  again. 

The  day  was  cold,  but  very  bright  and 
well  suited  for  our  rough  walking.  The 
breakfast  ended,  we  abandoned  the  fires, 
which  still  glowed  red  in  the  ravine,  and 
began  our  return  to  Fort  Defiance, 
Crothers  leading  the  army,  while  I 
walked  in  the  centre  of  it. 


106  THE   LAST   REBEL 

Ours  was  a  silent  walk.  If  their  feel- 
ings had  changed  with  the  day,  so  had 
mine.  I  regretted  that  I  had  not  es- 
caped. In  the  bright  sunlight  the 
mountains  did  not  look  so  unfriendly 
and  formidable.  But  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  ask  few  questions  and  to  abide 
the  issue. 

Near  noon  I  saw  the  same  column  of 
smoke  which  had  once  been  such  a 
cheering  sight  to  me,  and  in  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  more  I  looked  down  on  Fort 
Defiance  and  its  peaceful  valley.  The 
place  had  lost  none  of  its  beauty.  The 
glow  of  red  and  brown  and  yellow  in 
the  foliage  was  as  bright  and  as  deep  as 
ever.  The  little  river  was  fluid  silver  in 
the  sunshine.  We  paused  a  few  mo- 
ments at  the  last  slope  to  rest  a  little: 
the  quiet  landscape,  set  like  a  vase  in  the 
mountains,  seemed  to  appeal  to  Colonel 
Hetherill  as  it  appealed  to  me.  We  were 
standing  a  little  apart  from  the  others. 
I  said, — 


THE  LAST   REBEL  107 

"  It  is  too  much  like  a  country-seat, 
colonel,  to  be  invaded  by  an  enemy." 

"  I  thought  once  it  was  secure  from 
invasions,"  he  said,  looking  at  me  sus- 
piciously, "  but  since  there  are  traitors 
within  my  own  walls  I  must  prepare  for 
anything." 

He  spoke  as  if  he  intended  to  make 
trouble  about  the  matter,  and,  since  I 
had  no  fit  reply,  I  said  nothing.  We 
descended  into  the  valley,  and  when  we 
crossed  the  drawbridge  we  met  Grace 
Hetherill  standing  at  the  door.  She  ex- 
pressed no  surprise,  but  looked  at  me 
reproachfully.  I  felt  that  she  wronged 
me,  for  certainly  I  had  tried  to  es- 
cape. 

I  was  sent  to  a  new  room,  much  like 
the  other,  but  with  a  heavier  door.  The 
window,  well  cross-barred,  looked  out, 
like  all  the  other  windows,  upon  the 
mountains.  When  I  had  been  locked 
up  an  hour  Miss  Hetherill  came. 

"  You  see  I  am  back,  Miss  Hetherill," 


108  THE   LAST   REBEL 

I  said,  jauntily.  "  Who  comes  oftener 
than  I?" 

"Why  did  you  not  escape  when  I 
gave  you  the  chance  ?"  she  said,  with 
the  utmost  reproach  in  her  voice. 

I  felt  hurt  at  her  manner.  I  knew 
she  was  thinking  less  of  my  death  than 
of  her  father's  responsibility  for  it.  I 
hold  myself  to  be  of  some  value,  and 
did  not  wish  to  be  cheapened  in  any 
such  manner. 

"  I  did  my  best  to  escape,  Miss 
Hetherill,"  I  said,  "  but  the  activity  of 
the  Confederate  army  was  too  great  for 
me." 

Her  eyes  flashed  with  such  anger  that 
I  saw  my  mistake  at  once. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  I  said.  "  I  will 
not  jest  again  at  the  colonel's  faith." 

"  I  have  come  to  tell  you,"  she  said, 
"  that  you  are  in  as  much  danger  as  you 
were  yesterday.  I  do  not  think  my 
father  will  alter  his  sentence." 

"  But  first,"  I  said,  "  he  is  going  to  find 


THE    LAST   REBEL  109 

out  the  traitor  who  helped  me  to  escape 
last  night." 

I  supposed,  of  course,  that  she  would 
tell  him  her  part  in  it,  having  nothing  to 
fear,  and  I  was  surprised  when  she  an- 
swered me. 

"  He  has  been  endeavoring  to  ascertain 
it  already,"  she  said,  "  but  has  failed. 
He  thinks  Dr.  Ambrose  is  the  man,  and 
both  the  doctor  and  I  are  willing  for  the 
present  to  let  him  think  so.  You  will 
under  no  circumstances  tell  him  that  it 
was  I.     Will  you  promise  me  that  *?" 

"  I  will  promise,  since  you  ask  it,  but 
it  seems  strange,  Miss  Hetherill." 

"  It  is  because  I  wish  to  be  free  to  help 
you.  If  my  father  knew  it  was  I  he 
would  lock  me  up  until  you  were — 
were " 

"  Executed. 

"  Yes,  that  is  it,  though  I  did  not  like 
to  say  it." 

I  could  not  say  no  to  such  a  plan,  for 
I  valued  my  life,  and  any   one  in  my 


no  THE   LAST   REBEL 

place  would  have  been  acute  enough  to 
see  that  Grace  Hetherill  would  be  the 
most  powerful  friend  I  could  have  in- 
side of  Fort  Defiance.  The  doctor  too 
must  be  weakening  in  his  Confederate 
faith,  if  he  were  willing  for  my  sake  to 
rest  under  his  commanding  officer's  sus- 
picion. But  that  might  be  done  for 
love.     Pshaw  !  he  was  too  old. 

I  thanked  her  very  earnestly  for  her 
endeavors  to  save  me. 

"  I  will  seek  to  delay  action  on  my 
father's  part,"  she  said.  "Our  chief 
hope  rests  in  that." 

I  trusted  that  she  would  secure  the  de- 
lay, indefinite  delay.  When  the  door  was 
opened  for  her  to  leave  I  saw  a  sentinel 
on  guard  in  the  hall,  and  became  con- 
vinced that  the  colonel  was  taking  very 
few  chances  with  me. 


CHAPTER    V. 

A    CHANGE    OF    SITUATIONS. 

QROTHERS  as  usual  brought  me  my 
meals,  and  in  that  respect  I  was  well 
treated.  The  night  passed  without  event, 
and  the  next  morning  I  was  allowed  to 
take  a  walk  around  the  fort  between 
Crothers  and  another  soldier,  but  I  saw 
nothing  of  either  the  colonel  or  his 
daughter.  I  tried  to  pump  Crothers, 
but  he  was  proof  against  my  most  skil- 
ful questions,  and  when  I  returned  to 
my  room  I  could  boast  no  increase  of 
knowledge.  Yet  I  was  not  much  de- 
pressed. I  comforted  myself  with  the 
old  reflection  that  it  was  the  year  of 
peace  1896,  and  I  would  not  become 
really  alarmed  until  I   stood  up  before 


ii2  THE   LAST   REBEL 

a  file  of  the  colonel's  men  and  looked 
into  the  muzzles  of  their  rifles. 

I  received  a  visit  the  next  morning 
from  the  colonel  himself.  His  manner 
was  still  of  a  piece  with  that  he  had 
shown  on  the  return  march  from  the 
mountains,  marked  by  a  certain  haughti- 
ness and  reserve  differing  much  from  the 
fiery  temperament  characteristic  of  him. 

"  Well,  am  I  to  be  shot  to-day,  col- 
onel ?"  I  asked,  and  I  think  I  asked  it 
cheerfully,  for,  mark  you,  I  had  returned 
to  my  old  state  of  incredulity. 

"  Not  to-day,"  he  said.  "  I  have  de- 
cided to  postpone  it  until  I  find  out 
where  the  treason  in  my  garrison  lies. 
You  can  see  that  your  death  might  be 
in  the  way  of  my  investigation." 

I  could  see  it  with  ease,  and  I  .was 
glad  that  it  was  so. 

He  asked  me  a  lot  of  questions  which 
he  intended  to  be  adroit,  but  I  saw  their 
drift  clearly  enough,  and  led  him  further 
astray.     When  he  was  through  he  knew 


THE   LAST   REBEL  113 

less  than  ever  about  my  rescuer,  and  I  let 
him  think  it  was  one  of  his  men. 

"  I  shall  discover  the  man  by  to-mor- 
row," he  said,  with  a  show  of  confidence 
which  was  but  a  show,  "and  his  fate 
shall  be  severe  enough  to  put  a  stop  to 
any  leanings  others  may  have  the  same 
way." 

Three  days  more  passed  in  this  man- 
ner. I  was  permitted  to  take  two  walks 
daily  around  the  fort  in  the  company  of 
Crothers  and  another  man,  but,  as  before, 
I  could  obtain  no  information  from 
them,  and  I  remained  in  ignorance  of 
the  colonel's  progress  or  lack  of  progress 
with  his  secret  service. 

On  the  fourth  day  my  door  was  ab- 
ruptly thrown  open,  and  Grace  Hetherill 
entered.  Her  face  showed  great  excite- 
ment. The  door  was  not  closed  behind 
her,  but  stood  wide  open,  and  I  noticed 
that  no  sentry  was  in  the  hall.  I  was 
convinced  that  something  of  importance 
had  happened. 


u4  THE   LAST   REBEL 

"  Mr.  West,"  she  said,  "  we  need  your 
help." 

"  My  help  ?"  I  exclaimed,  involunta- 
rily. "  How  can  I,  who  need  it  so  much 
myself,  give  anybody  help?" 

"  But  you  can,"  she  cried.  "  There  is 
trouble  in  Fort  Defiance." 

Then,  her  first  flush  of  excitement 
over,  she  told  me  the  story  calmly.  She 
was  not  long  in  the  telling. 

Her  hint  to  her  father  that  Dr.  Am- 
brose might  have  been  the  man  who 
assisted  in  my  escape  had  produced 
greater  results  than  she  expected.  The 
old  colonel  had  watched  the  doctor 
closely,  and  at  last  had  accused  him  of 
treason  to  the  Confederate  government. 
Thereupon  the  doctor,  who  was  superior 
in  intelligence  and  information  to  the 
other  men,  and  knew  what  was  passing 
in  the  world,  had  advised  him  to  free  me, 
and  to  haul  down  the  stars  and  bars,  as 
the  cause  was  lost  beyond  the  hope  of 
revival. 


THE   LAST   REBEL'  115 

"  My  father  flew  into  a  terrible  rage," 
said  Grace.  "  He  ordered  that  Dr.  Am- 
brose be  locked  up  at  once,  and  it  is  his 
intention  to  have  him  shot  when  he 
shoots  you." 

"  Miss  Hetherill,"  I  said,  "  you  must 
tell  your  father  that  Dr.  Ambrose  had 
nothing  to  do  with  my  escape." 

"  That  would  do  no  good  now,"  she 
said,  "and  might  do  harm.  It  would 
not  help  Dr.  Ambrose,  for  my  father 
regards  his  proposition  to  surrender  as 
the  worst  treason  of  all,  and  if  I  were  to 
say  that  it  was  I  and  not  the  doctor  who 
helped  you,  he  would  not  believe  me." 

This  put  a  new  phase  on  the  matter. 
I  felt  very  sorry  for  the  doctor,  who  had 
got  himself  into  trouble  on  my  account. 
I  did  not  know  what  to  say,  but  Miss 
Hetherill  interpreted  my  look. 

"  Do  not  fear  for  Dr.  Ambrose,"  she 
said.  "  Some  of  the  men  have  begun 
to  be  of  his  way  of  thinking,  and  my 
father  will  not  be  able  to  carry  out  his 


u6  THE   LAST    REBEL 

sentence  against  either  the  doctor  or 
you." 

I  understood  at  once.  A  revolt  was 
threatened  in  the  camp,  and  her  fear  was 
neither  for  the  doctor  nor  for  me,  but  for 
her  father.     I  felt  rather  cheap. 

"  I  will  help  you  all  I  can,  Miss 
Hetherill,"  I  said,  a  little  stiffly,  "  but  I 
fail  to  see  anything  that  I  can  do.  As 
you  know,  I  am  a  prisoner  here." 

"  But  you  are  not  as  strictly  guarded 
as  you  were,"  she  said.  "  My  father's 
rage  against  Dr.  Ambrose  has  withdrawn 
his  attention  from  you,  and  within  a  day 
you  may  have  another  chance  to  escape. 
He  wants  you  to  come  now  and  testify 
against  Dr.  Ambrose." 

"  I  cannot  do  that,"  I  said. 

"  I  do  not  want  you  to  do  so,"  she 
said,  quickly.  "  You  must  say  that  you 
made  your  escape  without  help,  that  you 
picked  the  lock  of  your  door, — or  any- 
thing else  you  choose  to  say." 

It  was  a  falsehood  she  asked  me  to 


THE   LAST    REBEL  117 

tell,  but  I  was  willing  to  tell  it,  since  the 
interests  of  four  persons  were  involved 
in  it, — hers,  the  doctor's,  mine,  and,  not 
least  of  all,  the  colonel's.  Truly  my 
coming  had  aroused  a  mighty  commo- 
tion in  the  house  of  Colonel  Hetherill, 
C.S.A.,  and  perhaps  too  had  opened  it  to 
new  ideas.  It  had  never  occurred  to  me 
before  that  I  was  such  an  important  per- 
sonage. 

I  followed  Miss  Hetherill  to  the  sec- 
ond sitting  of  the  military  court  in  the 
trial-room,  though  this  time  as  a  witness 
and  not  as  the  accused. 

The  colonel  was  majestic  at  the  head 
of  the  table.  He  was  in  a  splendid  gray 
uniform,  gay  with  gold  lace,  as  if  he 
deemed  the  occasion  worthy  of  his  best 
appearance.  Crothers  had  taken  the 
place  of  Dr.  Ambrose  as  secretary,  and 
the  doctor  himself  was  at  the  foot  of  the 
table. 

The  examination  was  brief,  and  to  the 
colonel  very  unsatisfactory.     I   made  a 


u8  THE   LAST   REBEL 

poor  witness.  I  denied  that  any  one  had 
helped  me,  and  the  doctor  with  equal 
emphasis  denied  complicity.  The  col- 
onel frowned  at  me,  but  the  doctor  re- 
ceived the  larger  share  of  his  attention, 
and  I  was  of  the  opinion  that  the  col- 
onel considered  him  a  greater  villain  than 
myself,  as  I  was  an  enemy  by  birth, 
while  the  doctor  was  a  household  traitor. 

"  You  do  not  deny  making  to  me  the 
proposition  that  we  surrender  to  the  Fed- 
eral government?"  finally  said  the  col- 
onel. 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  the  doctor,  firmly. 
"  That  was  my  suggestion,  and  I  repeat 
it.  We  alone  are  holding  out.  What 
chance  have  we  ever  to  carry  our  cause 
through  to  success?" 

Colonel  Hetherill  looked  around  at 
his  men  as  if  he  feared  the  effect  of  those 
words  upon  them.  They  were  impassive, 
though  I  inferred  from  what  Grace  had 
said  that  several  were  beginning  to  share 
the  doctor's  way  of  thinking. 


THE   LAST  REBEL  119 

"  Your  answer,"  said  the  colonel  to 
Dr.  Ambrose,  "is  sufficient  proof  of 
treasonable  designs.  The  answer  itself 
I  consider  treason.     I  will  hear  no  more." 

He  promptly  dissolved  the  court,  or- 
dered Dr.  Ambrose  and  myself  to  be 
locked  up  again,  and  refused  to  listen  to 
anything  his  daughter  wished  to  say. 
What  further  steps  he  took  I  did  not 
know  then,  for  under  escort  I  passed  on 
to  my  room  and  was  out  of  sight  and 
hearing. 

That  evening  Grace  came  to  my  room 
again,  and,  as  before,  she  was  visibly 
under  the  influence  of  strong  emotion. 

"  You  must  escape  again  to-night," 
she  said,  "  and  this  time  you  must  not  be 
overtaken.  I  have  arranged  everything, 
and  it  will  be  easy  enough  for  you  to 
reach  the  mountains." 

"  What  will  become  of  Dr.  Ambrose?" 
I  asked. 

"  We  will  save  him,  too,  though  I  do 
not  yet  know  how,"  she  said. 


120  THE   LAST   REBEL 

The  doctor  had  taken  his  risk  partly 
on  my  account,  and  I  did  not  feel  like 
abandoning  him  in  danger.  I  am  willing 
to  admit  also  that  I  wanted  to  see  how 
events  at  Fort  Defiance  would  culminate. 
So  I  refused  to  leave  the  fort.  My  re- 
fusal greatly  disturbed  Grace,  and  she 
begged  me  to  go.  Her  cheeks  were 
flushed,  her  eyes  luminous,  and  she 
looked  very  beautiful. 

"  Would  you  have  me  think  of  my- 
self alone  V  I  asked.  "  It  is  true  that  I 
seem  to  have  brought  trouble  here,  but  I 
can't  cure  it  by  slipping  away  to-night. 
I  mean  to  stay." 

She  had  nothing  more  to  say,  but  one 
look  she  gave  me  seemed  to  approve  of 
my  decision.  She  left  the  room  hastily, 
and  I  did  not  hear  the  key  turn  in  the 
lock.  I  tried  the  door,  and  found  that 
it  was  not  locked.  Through  neglect  or 
intention,  I  was  free  to  go  about  Fort 
Defiance,  and  I  inferred  that  the  colonel's 
affairs  in  truth  were  in  a  critical  state,  if 


THE  LAST   REBEL  121 

so  little  attention  was  paid  to  me.  I 
looked  out  in  the  hall,  but  saw  no  one. 
I  walked  lightly  to  the  top  of  the  stair- 
case, but,  hearing  voices  below,  con- 
cluded it  would  be  best  to  return  to  my 
room.  From  the  window  I  saw  that  the 
drawbridge  was  up,  and  I  doubted  the 
chances  of  escape,  even  had  I  wished 
it. 

I  remained  there  an  hour  or  so,  trying 
to  decide  upon  the  wisest  course.  Un- 
able to  come  to  any  decision,  I  went 
into  the  hall  again  for  lack  of  something 
better  to  do.  From  the  top  of  the  stair- 
case I  heard  voices  in  loud  and  excited 
conversation.  I  crept  half-way  down 
the  steps.  I  stopped  there  to  listen  fur- 
ther, and  feeling  sure  that  some  event 
of  great  importance  had  happened,  I 
walked  boldly  all  the  way  down. 

The  front  door,  which  looked  out 
upon  the  little  brass  cannon,  was  wide 
open.  Grace  and  Crothers  stood  near  it, 
talking  in  hurried  and  excited  tones.     A 


122  THE   LAST   REBEL 

half-dozen  soldiers  were  about  them,  and 
occasionally  they  said  something  as  if  by 
way  of  suggestion.  They  paid  no  at- 
tention to  me  until  I  came  so  close  that 
Grace  herself  could  not  help  noticing 
me. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  West !"  she  cried.  "  We 
are  so  glad  you  are  here  now !" 

Naturally  I  was  full  of  interest  and 
curiosity,  and  asked  the  cause  of  the 
trouble.  Then  they  told  me  that  Dr. 
Ambrose  had  escaped,  by  the  connivance 
of  some  one,  I  guessed,  and  had  fled  to 
the  mountains.  The  colonel,  discover- 
ing his  escape,  had  called  upon  his  men 
to  pursue  him,  and  if  necessary  shoot 
him  on  sight.  They  had  refused  unani- 
mously to  go,  and  the  colonel  in  his 
rage  had  taken  his  old  army  rifle  and 
had  gone  alone. 

Here  in  truth  was  a  pretty  muddle. 
The  colonel's  state  of  mind  was  such 
that  without  doubt  he  would  shoot  the 
doctor    if   he    found    an    opportunity, 


THE  LAST   REBEL  123 

which  would  be  a  double  tragedy  to  all 
the  people  of  Fort  Defiance. 

"  The  colonel  must  be  pursued  and 
overtaken,"  I  said. 

"  At  once,"  said  Grace,  with  an  em- 
phasis that  showed  I  had  only  seconded 
her  own  argument. 

Crothers  and  all  the  others  looked  at 
me  as  if  waiting  for  a  suggestion.  I 
seemed  by  an  easy  transition  to  change 
from  the  prisoner  of  Fort  Defiance  to  its 
chief.  Since  they  looked  upon  me  as 
such,  that  I  decided  to  be. 

"What  road  did  the  colonel  take?" 
I  asked  of  Crothers. 

"  There  is  only  one  passable  way  out 
of  the  mountains,"  replied  Crothers ; 
"  the  one  you  followed.  We  know  that 
both  the  doctor  and  the  colonel  took  it." 

I  saw  a  look  of  intelligence  pass  be- 
tween him  and  Grace,  and  I  wondered 
no  longer  at  the  doctor's  escape  or  his 
destination.  Our  duty  and  the  method 
of  doing  it  were  plainly  before  us. 


124  THE  LAST   REBEL 

It  required  but  a  few  minutes  for  me 
to  organize  our  search  and  rescue  expe- 
dition. I  made  Crothers  my  lieutenant, 
and  took  all  but  four  men,  leaving  these 
to  care  for  the  house.  Food  enough 
for  several  days  and  blankets  for  the 
night  were  collected  hastily,  and  then  we 
were  ready.  Miss  Hetherill  approached 
cloaked  and  hooded.  To  my  protest 
she  replied  with  much  firmness  that  she 
was  going  with  us. 

"But  the  road  over  these  mountains 
is  not  fit  for  a  lady  to  travel,"  I  said. 

"  I  have  been  over  that  road  often, 
and  I  know  these  mountains  much  bet- 
ter than  you,  Mr.  West,"  she  replied. 

I  could  not  dispute  her  assertion,  and 
moreover  her  presence  would  be  useful 
to  us  in  certain  contingencies.  She  was 
a  strong,  active  girl ;  and  I  made  no  fur- 
ther objection.  We  left  the  house  ;  the 
drawbridge  was  lowered  to  let  us  pass, 
and  when  we  had  crossed  was  raised 
again. 


THE  LAST   REBEL  125 

In  a  few  minutes  we  were  out  of  the 
valley  and  in  the  mountains,  following 
the  old  road.  As  it  was  my  second 
journey,  I  saw  how  easy  it  was  for  the 
colonel  and  his  men  to  pursue  and  over- 
take me.  It  was  the  only  real  load 
through  the  mountains,  and  one  followed 
it  as  naturally  as  the  waters  of  a  brook 
flow  down  its  channel. 

"  How  long  a  start  of  us  has  the  col- 
onel ?"  I  asked. 

"Not  more  than  an  hour,"  replied 
Crothers ;  "  but  he  is  strong,  in  spite  of 
his  age,  and  a  good  mountaineer.  I 
guess  he  can  go  faster  than  we  can." 

It  is  true  that  one  man,  other  things 
being  equal,  can  travel  faster  than  half  a 
dozen  who  stick  together,  and  in  it  lay 
the  danger  that  the  colonel  would  out- 
foot  us.  But  there  was  consolation  in 
the  thought  that  Dr.  Ambrose  had  the 
same  advantage. 

It  was  an  indifferent  night,  neither  very 
clear  nor  very  dark.     There  was  light 


iz6  THE   LAST   REBEL 

enough  to  show  the  peaks  and  the 
ravines,  but  only  to  distort  them.  I  let 
Crothers,  who  knew  the  way,  take  the 
lead,  and  I  dropped  back  by  the  side  of 
Miss  Hetherill.  We  were  silent  for 
some  time ;  then  I  made  a  lame  apology 
for  blundering  upon  Fort  Defiance  and 
bringing  such  trouble  to  its  inmates. 

"  It  is  not  your  fault  that  you  came, 
Mr.  West,"  she  said,  "  and  even  if  you 
had  come  by  intention  we  would  have 
no  right  to  complain.  Something  of 
the  kind  was  bound  to  happen  some 
day." 

I  was  glad  that  she  admitted  the 
abnormal  conditions  of  Fort  Defiance. 
That  she  knew  them  was  obvious,  for 
she  had  passed  but  little  of  her  life  there 
and  knew  the  swing  of  the  world. 

We  made  speed,  despite  the  roughness 
of  the  way.  Some  mists  or  fine  clouds 
sifted  before  the  moon,  and  the  visible 
world  became  small.  But  we  went  on 
without  uncertainty.     The  fugitive  could 


THE   LAST    REBEL  127 

not  well  turn  from  the  path,  nor  could 
the  pursuer. 

I  saw  Crothers  looking  up  at  the 
white,  silky  clouds :  once  he  shook  his 
head  doubtfully,  but  I  did  not  ask  him 
his  thought.  With  plenty  of  company, 
the  mountains  did  not  impress  or  awe 
me  as  on  the  night  of  my  flight.  Once 
our  course  dipped  into  a  little  valley  down 
which  a  brook  trickled.  In  the  soft 
earth  on  either  side  of  it  the  vigilant 
Crothers  saw  footsteps  which  he  said 
were  those  of  two  men.  We  knew  the 
two  men  must  be  the  doctor  and  the 
colonel. 

"  I  should  judge  from  those  footprints, 
though  I  can't  tell  precisely,"  said 
Crothers,  "  that  we  haven't  gained  any- 
thing on  them." 

This  was  somewhat  discouraging,  and 
our  enthusiasm  did  not  grow  when  the 
path,  after  leaving  the  valley,  or  rather 
slit  in  the  hills,  led  up  a  very  steep  and 
long  slope.     Our  muscles  relaxed  under 


128  THE   LAST    REBEL 

the  strain,  and  the  breath  came  in  irregu- 
lar puffs.  I  was  very  tired,  but  I  was 
not  willing  to  own  it,  especially  as  I  saw 
Grace  walking  with  still  vigorous  step. 
She  had  told  the  truth  when  she  said  she 
was  a  better  mountaineer  than  I. 

The  mists  thickened.  The  moon  was 
but  a  faint  glimmer  through  them,  and 
they  drifted  like  lazy  clouds.  Our  world 
narrowed  again,  and  instinctively  we 
walked  very  close  together.  It  was  like 
a  fog  at  sea ;  the  damp  of  it  carried  a 
raw  penetrating  chill.  There  was  no 
wind  to  moan  or  sing  through  the 
ravines ;  the  mountains  were  silent  save 
for  ourselves.  Crothers  suggested  a 
light,  and  produced  from  under  his  coat 
the  torch  with  which  he  had  provided 
himself  in  view  of  such  emergency.  It 
was  a  long  stick,  soaked  in  some  com- 
pound of  tar  and  turpentine,  and  when 
he  lighted  one  end  and  held  it  aloft  it 
burned  with  energy,  casting  a  bright, 
cheerful  light. 


THE   LAST   REBEL  129 

Nevertheless  we  shivered  in  our 
clothes ;  the  chill  in  the  air  was  insist- 
ent, and  the  mist  was  soaking  into  the 
ground  and  the  autumn  foliage.  All 
the  world  seemed  to  be  a-sweat,  and, 
poor  woodsman  as  I  was,  I  knew  that 
this  had  its  perils.  Pneumonia  is  not 
picturesque,  but  it  is  very  dangerous. 

Crothers  looked  at  me  several  times 
as  if  he  expected  me  to  make  a  sug- 
gestion, but,  though  by  common  consent 
I  was  the  leader  of  the  party,  I  waited 
for  him  to  make  it,  as  he  knew  more 
about  mountains  and  forests  than  I. 
But  we  plodded  on  for  a  long  time  be- 
fore he  spoke.  Then  he  announced  that 
we  must  stop  for  a  while  and  build  a 
fire. 

"  If  we  don't,"  he  said,  "  we'll  be 
soaked  through  and  through  with  the 
cold  mist,  and  in  another  hour  some  of 
us  will  be  shaking  with  the  chills  and 
fever." 

Grace     protested     against     stopping. 


130  THE   LAST   REBEL 

She  was  in  the  greatest  alarm  lest  a 
tragedy  should  happen  ahead  of  us,  but, 
while  we  felt  the  same  fear,  we  recosr- 
nized  also  the  truth  of  the  old  maxim 
about  the  futility  of  too  much  haste. 
I  pointed  out  the  dangers  to  her,  and 
urged  that  her  father  probably  had 
sought  shelter  somewhere  before  this. 
She  was  compelled  to  yield,  not  to  my 
arguments  necessarily,  but  to  her  own 
judgment.  I  often  think  what  a  jolly 
world  this  would  be  if  our  judgment 
and  our  wishes  were  always  agreed. 

We  chose  a  somewhat  sheltered  spot, 
which  was  not  difficult  to  find  in  a  region 
of  hill  on  hill,  criss-crossed  with  ravines 
and  gullies,  and  gathered  heaps  of  brush- 
wood. The  fire  was  much  more  diffi- 
cult to  light  than  on  the  night  when  I 
was  the  colonel's  prisoner,  but  we  set  it 
to  burning  at  last,  and  glad  we  were 
when  the  flames  rose  high  up  in  the  chilly 
darkness. 

We  refreshed  ourselves  with  a  little 


THE   LAST   REBEL  131 

supper.  Then  Crothers  insisted  that 
some  of  us,  and  especially  Miss  Hether- 
ill,  should  get  a  little  sleep.  Again  she 
showed  herself  a  wise  girl  by  trying  to 
obey,  despite  her  wishes.  We  made  her 
a  bed  of  blankets  between  the  fire  and  a 
cliff,  and,  though  she  said  she  would  not 
be  able  to  sleep,  in  half  an  hour  she 
slept.  As  she  lay  there  with  a  bit  of 
her  pale,  weary  face  showing  above  the 
blankets,  I  felt  very  sorry  for  her,  far 
sorrier  than  I  had  ever  felt  for  myself, 
even  when  under  sentence  of  death ;  I 
could  see  the  reality  of  her  trouble,  and 
I  had  never  believed  fully  in  mine. 

All  the  men  except  Crothers  and  I 
and  a  third  rolled  themselves  in  their 
blankets  and  slept.  I  sat  by  the  fire, 
wondering  what  the  outcome  of  it  all 
would  be.  I  noticed  that  Crothers  con- 
tinued to  look  up  uneasily  at  the  skies 
and  the  clouded  moon,  and  at  last  I 
asked  him  what  he  might  have  on  his 
mind. 


132  THE   LAST    REBEL 

"  Bad  weather,"  he  replied,  briefly. 

"  We  have  that  already,"  I  said,  point- 
ing to  the  cliffs  soaking  in  the  wet  mist. 

"  More  coming,"  he  said,  putting  on  a 
very  weatherwise  look. 

"  What  do  you  expect  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Maybe  snow,  but  more  likely  sleet, 
and  that,  too,  before  morning,"  he  re- 
plied. "  It's  early  for  such  things,  but 
all  the  signs  point  that  way." 

I  asked  him  no  more.  This  was  most 
unpromising,  and  gave  full  warrant  for 
his  grave  looks.  The  mists  were  lifting, 
though  very  slowly,  and  were  gathering 
in  clouds  above  us.  The  peaks  were 
ghostly  gray,  and  the  moon  narrowed  to 
a  half-rim  of  steel  and  then  disappeared 
altogether.  The  dampness  remained  in 
the  air,  but  the  cold  was  too  great  for 
rain.  As  Crothers  said,  either  snow  or 
sleet  would  come. 

I  suggested  to  Crothers  that  we  make 
some  sort  of  protection  for  Miss  Heth- 
erill.     We  built  up  little  walls  of  brush 


THE   LAST    REBEL  133 

on  three  sides  of  her  and  covered  them 
over  with  the  same  material.  She  slept 
so  heavily  from  exhaustion,  poor  girl, 
that  she  never  awakened  to  our  noise, 
and  when  we  finished  our  improvised 
hut  our  satisfaction  was  all  the  greater 
because  we  had  not  disturbed  her  at 
all. 

Then  we  built  up  the  fires  and  waited 
for  what  might  come.  I  dozed  awhile, 
and  awoke  to  find  that  the  clouds  had 
thickened.  All  the  peaks  were  hidden 
by  them,  and  there  was  some  wind,  just 
enough  to  make  a  subdued  moan. 
Crothers  said  it  lacked  about  two  hours 
of  day.  I  noticed  that  he  had  put  the 
men  at  work  again,  and  they  had  gath- 
ered brushwood  sufficient  to  make  the 
camp-fire  of  a  regiment. 

"The  clouds  will  do  what  they  are 
going  to  do  very  soon,"  said  Crothers ; 
and  he  was  right.  Presently  we  heard  a 
patter  upon  the  dry  leaves  like  the  falling 
of  dust-shot.     Little  white    kernels   re- 


134  THE   LAST   REBEL 

bounded  and  fell  again.  One  lodged  in 
my  eye,  and  I  winked  until  I  got  it 
out.  The  patter  increased  ;  the  dust-shot 
turned  to  bird-shot. 

"  Hail,"  said  Crothers.  "  We're  in  for 
it." 

We  woke  all  the  men  and  made  shel- 
ter for  ourselves  as  best  we  could  in  the 
lee  of  the  cliff.  Another  blanket  spread 
over  the  top  of  Grace's  rude  bower  was 
sufficient  protection  for  her.  Soon  we 
had  a  fine  downpour  of  hail.  It  was 
like  a  white  bombardment,  from  which 
we  were  safe  within  our  works.  I  would 
have  been  content  to  watch  it,  had  it  not 
put  such  obstacles  in  the  way  of  our 
pursuit.  The  ground  whitened  quickly 
under  the  fall  of  the  hail,  and  by  and  by, 
when  the  wind  shifted  to  the  south,  the 
clouds  discharged  rain  instead  of  hail. 
This  was  no  improvement,  and  in  fact 
its  probable  sequel  was  what  we  dreaded 
most.  The  shift  of  the  wind  came  again, 
and  then  happened  what  often  happens 


THE    LAST    REBEL  135 

in  our  fickle  climate :  the  rain  which 
covered  everything  turned  to  ice  under 
the  wind  from  the  north,  and  in  an  hour 
the  earth  was  clad  in  a  complete  suit  of 
white  armor. 

The  sun  was  just  rising  above  the  last 
peaks.  Every  cloud  had  gone  from  the 
sky,  and  the  day,  hidden  before  by  the 
wall  of  mountains,  seemed  to  come  all 
at  once.  Every  ray  of  the  sun  was 
caught  up  by  the  sheet  of  white  and 
gleaming  ice  and  reflected  back.  Our 
eyes  were  dazzled  by  the  brilliancy  of  the 
morning,  for  the  ice  covered  everything. 
Every  leaf,  every  twig,  was  encrusted 
with  it.  It  was  all  very  beautiful,  and 
all  very  dangerous.  Mountain-climbing 
on  sheets  of  ice  is  a  slippery  business. 

As  usual,  I  turned  to  Crothers  for 
advice. 

"  We'll  have  to  creep  along  as  best  we 
can,"  he  said.  "  But,  while  we  can't  go 
fast,  neither  can  the  doctor  nor  the  col- 
onel." 


136  THE  LAST   REBEL 

This  was  the  one  redeeming  point  of 
the  situation.  Whatever  affected  us  af- 
fected both  the  pursued,  and  we  remained 
on  an  equal  footing.  We  awoke  Grace, 
who  was  astonished  and  dismayed  at  the 
sight  of  the  earth  cased  in  ice.  Then 
we  had  a  little  breakfast,  and  prepared  to 
resume  our  dangerous  pursuit. 

I  had  heard  of  Alpine  climbing,  and, 
though  I  had  never  done  any  of  it,  the 
virtues  of  an  alpenstock  were  not  un- 
known to  me.  We  selected  slender  but 
stout  sticks  from  the  brushwood,  sharp- 
ened the  ends,  and,  having  hardened 
them  in  the  fire,  made  our  start,  each 
thus  provided.  It  was  treacherous  work, 
and  our  falls  were  many,  but  we  were 
satisfied  to  escape  with  mere  bruises,  for 
one  might  easily  pitch  over  a  preci- 
pice or  tumble  down  a  long,  steep-hill 
slope  and  become  a  mere  bag  of  broken 
bones. 

The  sun  shone  in  splendor,  but  the 
rays  were  without  warmth.     They  were 


THE   LAST   REBEL  137 

white,  not  yellow,  and  a  white  light  is 
always  cold.  The  brilliant  reflection 
from  the  ice-fields  forced  us  to  keep  our 
eyes  half  closed,  if  we  did  not  want  to 
be  blinded 


CHAPTER  VI. 

AT    THE    HUT. 

rPHE  way  was  still  certain,  a  rude 
path  coiling  among  the  hills,  from 
which  the  sheets  of  ice  glistening  like 
new  glass,  and  as  treacherous,  forbade 
us  to  turn.  Sometimes  the  wind  would 
blow,  and  the  ice-clad  bushes  would 
rattle  together  to  the  tune  of  castanets. 
Our  stock  of  bruises  grew  with  steadi- 
ness and  certainty,  but  we  could  boast 
of  progress. 

Once  the  path  dipped  down  between 
two  peaks  of  unusual  height.  The  wind 
was  blowing  rather  sharply  at  the  time, 
and  from  the  white  head  of  the  higher 
peak  on  our  left  came  a  faint  rumble. 
Crothers  showed  alarm  and  urged  us  to 
138 


THE   LAST    REBEL  139 

greater  speed.  I  half  guessed  what  he 
meant,  and  lent  Grace  an  arm  to  hurry 
forward.  The  rumble  grew  to  a  roar, 
and  we  had  just  turned  the  dangerous 
defile  when  the  avalanche  plunged  down 
the  slope  into  the  path  we  had  left,  set- 
ting all  the  echoes  astir  and  sending  up 
a  cloud  of  white  snow-dust.  I  am  of 
opinion  that  several  tons  of  valuable  ice 
and  packed  hail  were  wasted  in  that 
drift,  but  as  we  escaped  it  all  perhaps  we 
have  no  right  to  complain. 

We  passed  the  spot  at  which  I  had 
been  retaken,  and  thence  the  way  was 
new  to  me.  But  its  character  did  not 
change.  The  untenanted  mountains 
seemed  to  roll  away  to  the  end  of  the 
world. 

"  We  ought  to  reach  the  hut  by  the 
middle  of  the  afternoon,"  said  Crothers. 

"What's  the  hut?"  I  asked,  having 
heard  nothing  before  of  such  a  place. 
Then  Crothers  explained  that  it  was  a 
rude  little  cabin  which  the  colonel  had 


140  THE   LAST    REBEL 

erected  beside  the  path,  to  be  used  as  a 
stopping-place  on  the  way  to  the  outside 
world,  or  as  a  lodge  on  hunting  expe- 
ditions. He  was  hopeful  that  we  would 
find  the  colonel  or  the  doctor  or  both 
there.  It  seemed  to  me  very  probable 
that  we  would. 

Grace,  who  had  been  somewhat  down- 
hearted, though  she  never  complained, 
cheered  up  at  the  prospect  of  the  hut, 
and  in  truth  all  our  little  army  pressed 
forward  with  fresh  zest  and  enthusiasm. 
Hope  is  easily  able  to  pin  itself  upon 
little  things.  We  walked  and  slid 
along  at  much  better  speed,  and  Crothers 
even  told  stories  of  winter  campaigns, 
though  he  was  forced  to  admit  that  he 
had  never  found  skates  quite  so  neces- 
sary as  they  seemed  to  be  now. 

Our  path  led  directly  toward  a  ridge 
which  seemed  to  block  the  way  like  a 
wall. 

"  Up  there  on  the  comb  of  that  ridge 
is  the  hut,"  said  Crothers. 


THE  LAST   REBEL  141 

Though  my  muscles  complained  and 
my  bruises  were  as  numerous  as  the 
spots  on  a  leopard,  I  was  full  of  am- 
bition to  reach  this  little  lodge  of  logs, 
which  seemed  to  me  to  be  a  fit  home 
for  some  Robinson  Crusoe  of  the  moun- 
tains. Presently  Crothers  uttered  a  joy- 
ful grunt, — he  never  rose  to  the  dignity 
of  an  exclamation, — and  pointed  to  a 
find  blue  trail  of  smoke  rising  like  a 
white  plume  from  the  slender  comb  of 
the  ridge. 

"  That's  from  the  hut,"  he  said,  "  and 
somebody's  there,  sure." 

His  logic  seemed  sound.  The  smoke 
had  a  most  comfortable,  home-like  look. 
It  was  a  bit  of  warmth  and  cheer  in  the 
cold,  white  wilderness.  It  encouraged 
us  so  much  that  we  were  willing  to 
wager  we  would  find  both  the  colonel 
and  the  doctor  there,  good  friends  again, 
and  ready  to  return  with  us  to  Fort  De- 
fiance. 

As  we  advanced,  the  column  was  de- 


142  THE   LAST   REBEL 

fined  more  clearly  against  the  sky,  and 
Crothers  was  positive  that  it  came  from 
the  hut. 

"  It's  built  in  a  little  patch  of  woods 
on  a  level  spot  of  about  a  quarter  of  an 
acre,"  he  said,  "and  my  eye  says  the 
smoke  rises  straight  from  that  spot." 

By  and  by,  as  we  climbed  the  slope, 
we  could  see  the  hut  itself,  coated  with 
ice  like  the  trees.  The  smoke  was 
coming  from  the  little  mud  chimney, 
and  we  guessed  that  a  fine  fire  was  blaz- 
ing on  the  hearth.  I,  for  one,  began  to 
wish  that  I  was  sitting  in  front  of  that 
same  fire,  listening  to  the  popping  of 
the  dry  wood  as  the  flames  ate  into  it. 
But  Grace  outstripped  us,  in  so  far  as  her 
cause  for  anxiety  was  greater  than  ours. 
She  ran  forward,  pushed  open  the  door 
of  the  hut,  and  sprang  •  inside.  We 
heard  a  cry  of  disappointment,  and,  fol- 
lowing her,  found  the  hut  was  empty, 
save  for  ourselves. 

Upon  the  stone  hearth  the  fine  fire 


THE  LAST   REBEL  143 

that  I  had  pictured  to  myself  was  really 
blazing.  Upon  a  bench  lay  some  scraps 
of  bread  and  meat,  but  the  host,  who- 
ever he  might  be,  was  absent. 

It  was  a  little  place,  not  more  than 
seven  or  eight  feet  square,  with  a  roof 
that  the  head  of  a  tall  man  could  touch. 
Two  or  three  deerskins  were  on  the  floor, 
some  antlers  were  fastened  on  the  wall, 
and  besides  the  bench  there  were  three 
rude  little  stools.  It  was  not  exactly  a 
drawing-room,  but  it  was  a  warm  and 
hospitable  spot  in  the  wilderness.  At 
least  it  seemed  so  to  me.  Grace  sat 
down  on  one  of  the  stools  and  leaned 
her  head  against  the  wall,  too  brave  to 
cry,  but  not  strong  enough  to  conceal  all 
her  disappointment.  She  had  been  sure 
that  we  would  find  the  colonel  in  the 
hut. 

"Since  the  landlord  of  the  hotel  is 
away  and  there  is  no  one  to  welcome  us, 
I  propose  that  we  welcome  ourselves,"  I 
said,  wishing  to  appear  cheerful. 


144  THE   LAST   REBEL 

Crothers  silently  seconded  the  motion 
by  throwing  fresh  wood  on  the  fire, 
drawing  up  a  stool,  and  warming  his 
hands.  Then  we  held  a  brief  council  of 
war.  It  was  obvious  that  some  one  had 
been  at  the  hut,  but  whether  the  colonel 
or  the  doctor  there  was  nothing  to  indi- 
cate. Whichever  it  might  be,  it  was 
most  likely  that  he  would  soon  return, 
and  we  concluded  that  it  was  our  best 
plan  to  pass  the  night  there.  It  was  late 
in  the  day,  and  no  one  could  think  of 
any  other  course  that  promised  better. 
Crothers  and  I  scouted  a  bit  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, but  we  discovered  nothing  of 
the  lodge's  missing  tenant.  Whoever 
he  was,  he  seemed  to  have  gone  on  a 
long  journey  from  his  table  and  fireside, 
and  we  had  little  to  do  but  appropriate 
his  table,  sit  at  his  fireside,  and  wait  for 
his  return. 

The  end  of  the  day  was  near,  and  the 
night  promised  to  be  very  cold.  Au- 
tumn might  be  lingering  yet  in  the  low- 


THE   LAST    REBEL  145 

lands,  but  up  here  in  the  mountains, 
close  to  the  skies,  winter  was  sovereign. 
The  sun  went  over  the  hills,  the  white- 
ness of  the  earth  turned  to  pallor,  and 
in  the  dusk  the  icy  mountains  gleamed 
cheerless  and  cold.  I  was  very  glad  that 
necessity  bade  us  stay  at  the  hut. 

We  bestirred  ourselves  and  gathered 
wood,  for  we  intended  to  keep  a  good 
fire  all  night.  We  assigned  Grace  to 
one  corner  beside  the  fireplace,  and  made 
a  screen  for  it  by  hanging  up  two  or 
three  deerskins.  Then  we  heaped  the 
wood  on  the  fire  until  the  blaze  roared 
up  the  chimney.  A  little  window,  a 
mere  cut  in  the  logs,  a  half-foot  square, 
was  left  open.  When  I  went  out  I 
could  see  the  light  of  the  fire  shining 
through  it,  and  casting  long  streaks  of 
red  across  the  ice,  the  one  friendly  beacon 
in  the  dreary  wilderness. 

As  the  day  waned  and  the  night  took 
its  place,  I  began  to  fear  that  it  was 
neither  the  colonel  nor  the  doctor  who 


146  THE   LAST   REBEL 

had  built  the  fire,  or  surely  he  would 
have  returned  before  this.  After  all,  it 
might  have  been  some  stray  hunter  or 
mountaineer  who  had  lighted  the  com- 
fortable blaze,  warmed  himself,  and 
passed  on,  leaving  it  to  serve  the  same 
purpose  for  any  other  who  might  come. 

At  that  point  the  mountains  were 
more  accessible  than  farther  back  toward 
Fort  Defiance.  One  might  penetrate 
them  in  several  directions  if  he  were  will- 
ing to  risk  falls  on  the  sheet  ice.  Sev- 
eral of  us,  taking  our  alpenstocks,  ex- 
plored the  neighborhood  again.  The 
light  was  sufficient,  the  reflection  from 
the  ice  throwing  a  kind  of  pale  glow 
over  everything.  But  our  explorations 
brought  no  profit,  and,  the  night,  as  we 
had  expected,  turning  very  cold,  we  re- 
turned to  the  hut. 

We  stacked  our  rifles  against  the  wall 
and  composed  ourselves  for  rest.  We 
did  not  realize,  until  the  necessity  for 
exertion  was   over,  how  very  tired  we 


THE  LAST   REBEL  147 

were.  Grace  retired  to  her  curtained 
corner,  and  in  a  few  minutes  was  so  still 
there  that  we  knew  she  must  be  asleep 
despite  anxiety.  Some  of  the  soldiers 
stretched  themselves  upon  the  floor,  and 
they,  too,  soon  slept.  Another,  sitting 
upon  a  stool,  with  his  head  against  the 
wall,  snored  placidly.  We  saw  no  ne- 
cessity for  keeping  watch,  and  even  the 
vigilant  Crothers  lay  down  upon  the 
bench,  where  his  eyes  soon  closed  and 
his  breathing  became  long  and  regular. 
The  last  army  of  the  Confederacy  was 
sound  asleep,  and  the  colonel's  Yankee 
spy  alone  was  awake. 

They  were  old  men  mostly,  heads 
gray,  almost  white,  and  faces  deeply 
seamed,  like  the  colonel's.  But  they 
looked  to  me  like  a  loyal  lot,  and  my 
sympathy  went  out  to  these  old  fellows, 
every  one  of  whom  I  had  no  doubt  car- 
ried old  scars  on  his  body.  I  was  sitting 
on  a  stone  before  the  fire,  trying  to  read 
my  fortune   in  the   deep  bed  of   coals. 


148  THE    LAST    REBEL 

Tiring  of  the  vain  pursuit,  I  walked  to 
the  little  window.  The  old  soldiers  slept 
such  a  tired  and  heavy  sleep  that  my 
footsteps  did  not  disturb  them. 

I  could  see  nothing  but  the  mountains, 
cold  and  white  as  a  tombstone,  and  hear 
nothing  but  the  occasional  rattle  of  the 
loose  ice  as  it  fell  from  the  trees  and  shat- 
tered on  the  thicker  ice  below. 

I  went  back  to  the  fire,  picked  out  a 
convenient  place  in  front  of  it,  and  de- 
cided that  I  too  would  recognize  the 
claims  of  exhaustion  and  sleep,  which 
were  now  growing  clamorous.  Doubling 
up  my  blanket  and  putting  it  under  my 
head  for  a  pillow,  I  stretched  myself  out 
with  my  feet  to  the  fire  and  resumed  my 
old  occupation  of  studying  the  red  coals 
and  the  fortune  that  might  be  written  for 
me  there.  I  had  done  it  many  a  time  as 
a  boy,  and  as  a  man  I  was  not  changed. 

The  regular  and  heavy  breathing  of  the 
sleepers  had  something  soothing  in  it 
The  logs  burned  through,  crumbled,  and 


THE   LAST   REBEL  149 

fell  in  coals,  adding  to  the  glowing  mass. 
With  my  half-closed  eyes  making  much 
from  little  and  seeing  things  that  were 
riot,  I  built  castles  in  the  fire  and  sent 
troops  of  real  soldiers  marching  through 
them.  When  the  fourth  castle  was  but 
half  finished,  I  closed  my  eyes  and  joined 
the  others  in  sleep. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  strangeness  of  these 
scenes,  much  more  strange  to  me  than  to 
the  others,  that  disturbed  and  excited  my 
brain  while  I  slept,  and  by  and  by  made 
me  waken.  The  great  heap  of  coals  had 
sunk  but  little  lower,  and  I  reckoned  that 
I  had  not  slept  more  than  two  hours  at 
the  farthest.  It  was  very  warm  in  the 
room,  for  we  had  not  been  chary  with 
the  fire,  and  I  turned  to  the  little  window 
for  fresh  air. 

Framed  in  the  window  I  saw  very  dis- 
tinctly a  pair  of  bright  eyes  and  a  part 
of  a  human  face.  The  eyes  gazed  at 
me,  and  I  am  quite  sure  I  returned  the 
stare  with   equal   intentness.     We   had 


150  THE  LAST   REBEL 

hoped  for  a  visitor,  but  we  did  not  ex- 
pect to  find  him  at  the  window. 

I  rose  quickly  to  my  feet,  and  the  face 
was  withdrawn.  Wishing  to  look  into 
the  matter  myself  without  disturbing  the 
others,  I  walked  lightly  to  the  door,  on 
the  way  stepping  over  the  prostrate  bodies 
of  two  or  three  members  of  the  Confed- 
erate army.  I  opened  the  door  and  went 
out.  When  I  came  to  the  window  I 
found  that  my  man  was  gone,  but  not 
fifty  feet  away,  walking  toward  the  re- 
cesses of  the  mountains,  was  a  tall,  slender 
figure.  I  knew  that  military  bearing 
could  belong  to  none  other  in  those 
mountains  than  Colonel  Hetherill,  and  I 
felt  sure  also  that  it  was  he  who  had  been 
looking  through  the  window  at  us. 

I  ran  after  him,  but  he  was  better  ac- 
customed to  sleety  mountains  than  I,  and 
the  distance  between  us  widened.  He 
curved  around  a  hillock,  and  for  a  few 
moments  was  out  of  my  sight,  but  when 
I   too   passed    the  hillock    I    saw   him 


THE   LAST   REBEL  151 

straight  ahead,  his  shoulders  stooped  a 
little,  but  walking  swiftly  as  if  he  were 
bent  upon  reaching  the  very  heart  of  the 
highest  and  most  difficult  mountains. 

I  shouted  to  him  to  stop,  and  I  knew 
he  must  have  heard  me,  but  for  some 
time  he  paid  no  attention.  At  last  he 
turned  around  and  faced  me. 

"  Why  do  you  go  away,  colonel  ?"  I 
asked.  "  I  am  no  enemy  of  yours.  I 
am  your  friend.  We  have  come  to 
rescue  you  from  the  wilderness.  Your 
daughter  is  back  there  in  the  hut." 

"You  are  an  infernal  Yankee  spy," 
he  said,  "  and  you  are  worse  than  that ; 
you  have  turned  my  people  against 
me." 

"  Colonel,"  I  said,  protesting,  "  don't 
delude  yourself  that  way  any  longer. 
The  war  is  over." 

"  It  is  not,"  he  said.  "  All  my  men 
may  surrender,  but  I  at  least  will  hold 
out.  Don't  I  know  that  they  have  given 
up?     I  saw  them  in  the  hut  with  you 


152  THE   LAST   REBEL 

and  you  were  not  a  prisoner.  Keep  off, 
I  tell  you ;  do  not  come  near  me." 

I  was  advancing  toward  him,  not 
with  any  intent  to  harm  him,  instead 
the  precise  reverse,  and  he,  seeing  that  I 
would  not  stop,  whipped  a  pistol  out  of 
his  belt  and  fired  at  me.  I  suppose  his 
hand  was  chilled  by  the  cold,  for  the 
bullet  flew  wide  of  me,  chipping  splin- 
ters from  the  icy  side  of  a  hill.  But  I 
stopped,  out  of  regard  for  my  life,  ex- 
pecting another  pistol,  and  he  turned  and 
continued  his  course  into  the  higher 
mountains.  I  shouted  to  him  to  stop, 
and  I  shouted  to  my  comrades  in  the 
hut,  but  the  one  would  not  and  the 
others  could  not  hear.  He  never  looked 
back,  and  at  last  disappeared  in  a  thicket, 
every  bush  of  which  in  the  moonlight 
looked  as  if  it  were  cast  in  silver. 

I  walked  back  toward  the  hut,  feeling 
some  chagrin  over  my  failure  to  keep 
one  of  the  men  for  whom  we  had  been 
looking,  after  I  had  found  him.     I  can 


THE   LAST   REBEL  153 

say  with  truth  that  I  was  not  angered 
at  the  colonel's  bullet,  as  I  thought 
I  understood  him.  The  light  of  the 
fire  was  still  shining  through  the  little 
window,  or  rather  hole  in  the  wall,  and 
threw  a  long  red  bar  of  light  across 
the  whitened  earth.  It  was  a  friendly 
beacon  to  any  man  in  a  normal  state  of 
mind. 

All  the  people  in  the  hut  were  still 
sound  asleep,  the  snore  of  some  of  the 
veterans  placidly  riding  the  night  wind. 
I  took  Crothers  gently  by  the  shoulders, 
and  succeeded  in  waking  him  without 
waking  any  of  the  others.  Then  I  led 
him  out  of  the  hut  and  told  him  my 
story.  He  agreed  with  me  that  it  was 
best  not  to  say  anything  to  Grace  of  the 
incident.  But  he  was  in  a  quandary 
about  the  wisest  course  for  us  to  pursue 
in  the  morning,  as  the  possible  paths  now 
led  in  several  directions. 

This  quandary  was  ended  for  the  time 
by  the  sound  of  a  rifle-shot.     We  were 


154  THE  LAST   REBEL 

so  far  from  expecting  anything  of  the 
kind  that  it  startled  us  both  very  much. 
My  fear,  and  I  believe  that  of  Crothers 
was  the  same,  was  lest  the  colonel  and 
the  doctor  had  met.  We  knew  that  the 
colonel  had  taken  a  rifle  with  him  when 
he  left  Fort  Defiance,  and  probably  he 
had  put  it  in  some  convenient  place 
near  by  when  he  came  down  to  spy  us 
out  in  the  hut. 

"Take  this  pistol,"  said  Crothers, 
shoving  one  into  my  hand,  "but,  re- 
member, Colonel  Hetherill  must  not  be 
harmed." 

The  people  in  the  hut  seemed  to  be 
sleeping  on  calmly,  and,  leaving  them  to 
their  rest,  we  ran  as  fast  as  we  could  in 
the  direction  from  which  the  shot  had 
come.  Though  we  had  heard  the  report 
distinctly,  owing  to  the  rarefied  mountain 
air,  I  judged  that  the  gun  had  been  fired 
at  least  a  mile  away.  There  were  many 
echoes,  and  it  was  somewhat  difficult  for 
us  to  distinguish  the  true  sound  from  the 


THE   LAST   REBEL  155 

false,  but  we  agreed  upon  a  general 
northeast  course. 

When  we  had  gone  half  a  mile  the  gun 
was  fired  again,  the  report  echoing  as  gal- 
lantly in  the  still  night  as  if  it  had  been  a 
little  cannon  instead  of  an  ordinary  rifle. 

"  Up  the  valley  there  !"  cried  Crothers. 
"  Follow  that,  and  it  will  be  sure  to  take 
us  right." 

I  disagreed  with  him,  however.  The  re- 
port seemed  to  me  to  have  been  farther 
to  the  left,  and  I  insisted  upon  my  opinion. 

"  All  right,"  said  Crothers ;  "  you  go 
that  way,  and  I  will  go  up  the  gully ; 
one  or  the  other  of  us  will  be  likely  to 
strike  it  right." 

He  ran  up  the  gully,  and,  obedient  to 
his  suggestion,  I  bent  away  to  the  left. 
But  I  found  myself  in  a  very  slippery 
country,  the  mountains  breaking  there 
into  successive  little  ridges  like  the  waves 
of  the  sea,  though  the  general  direction 
was  upward.  Luckily  there  was  a  good 
growth  of  bushes,  and  more  than  once  I 


156  THE   LAST  REBEL 

kept  myself  from  falling  by  grasping  at  the 
outstretched  boughs.  When  I  had  nearly 
reached  the  spot  from  which  I  thought 
the  shot  had  come,  I  saw  a  man  standing 
near  a  tree.  The  next  instant  he  saw 
me  and  sprang  behind  the  tree.  I  caught 
but  a  glimpse  of  the  slender  figure  and 
gray  hair,  but  it  was  enough  for  me.  I 
had  found  the  colonel  again,  and  I  did 
not  mean  for  him  to  try  a  second  shot 
at  me  which  might  be  better  aimed  than 
the  first. 

I  sprang  behind  some  rocks,  where  I 
was  adequately  sheltered  so  long  as  he 
remained  in  his  present  position.  I  feared 
that  he  would  try  to  get  a  shot  at  me, 
thinking  I  was  trying  to  do  him  harm,  and 
I  shifted  my  position  a  little,  moving  far- 
ther on  behind  the  wall  of  rock.  I  had 
no  intention  of  firing  at  him,  for  several 
reasons ;  and  I  recognized  that  it  was  a 
very  difficult  task  for  me  to  take  an  armed 
man  against  whom  I  had  no  intention 
of  using  arms.     But  I  believed  that  if  I 


THE   LAST    REBEL  157 

could  slip  upon  him  unawares  I  could 
overpower  him  with  superior  force  and 
strength,  and  disarm  him. 

Ledges  of  rock  were  plentiful  there, 
the  mountain  being  broken  into  an  infi- 
nite succession  of  ridges  and  ravines. 
Once  I  slipped  on  the  sleet  and  crashed 
into  a  thicket  which  stopped  me.  But 
the  ice  knocked  off  the  boughs  fell  with 
a  rattle  like  hail,  and  I  was  in  a  tremor 
lest  the  colonel  should  fire  at  me  from 
some  point  of  vantage  before  I  could  re- 
gain my  feet.  But  the  shot  did  not 
come,  and,  righting  myself,  I  went  on, 
wishing  that  my  shoes  were  shod  with 
sharp  nails  and  plenty  of  them. 

The  ground  seemed  favorable  for  my 
design.  The  gully  up  which  I  was 
creeping  curved  around  behind  the  tree 
that  sheltered  Colonel  Hetherill,  and  I 
believed  that  with  caution  I  could  sud- 
denly throw  myself  upon  him  from  the 
rear  and  overwhelm  him.  I  dropped 
down    on    my    hands   and    knees,    and, 


158  THE   LAST   REBEL 

though  my  progress  was  slow,  I  avoided 
another  fall.  The  colonel  gave  no  sign. 
I  presumed  that  he  was  behind  the  tree, 
watching  for  an  attack  and  seeking  an 
opening  in  his  turn. 

I  rose  up  a  little,  trying  to  peep  over 
the  wall  of  the  gully  toward  the  tree, 
and  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  gray  head 
lifted  above  the  same  gully  wall,  but  just 
around  the  curve.  He  dropped  back 
like  a  flash,  and  from  prudential  motives 
I  did  the  same.  The  curve  of  the  gully 
at  that  point  was  sharp.  In  fact,  it  was 
more  of  an  angle  than  a  curve,  and  he 
was  only  a  yard  or  two  from  me.  As  I 
hugged  the  wall,  I  could  hear  his  heavy, 
tired  breathing.  I  thought  once  of  turn- 
ing about  and  going  back,  but  I  con- 
cluded that  it  would  never  do.  The 
colonel  had  escaped  me  once,  and  I 
would  be  ashamed  to  confess  to  my  com- 
rades that  he  had  escaped  me  twice.  I 
resumed  my  continuous  creep,  stealing 
forward  inch  by  inch  until  I  came  to 


THE   LAST   REBEL  159 

that  point  in  the  curve  beyond  which  I 
could  not  pass  without  coming  into  his 
sight.  Then  I  gathered  myself  for  a 
great,  effort,  sprang  to  my  feet,  and 
darted  around  the  curve,  ready  to  spring 
upon  him  and  surprise  him. 

I  encountered  another  large  and  living 
body  rushing  in  my  direction,  and  the 
encounter  was  so  violent  that  I  fell  back 
on  the  ice  and  sleet,  half  stunned. 

In  a  few  moments  I  recovered  and  sat 
up. 

Dr.  Ambrose  was  sitting  on  a  stone 
and  looking  at  me,  his  eyes  full  of  re- 
proach. He  pointed  to  a  purple  con- 
tusion on  his  forehead. 

"  You  did  that,"  he  said. 

I  felt  of  a  growing  lump  over  my  left 
ear. 

"  You  did  that,"  I  said. 

He  surveyed  me,  still  with  reproach. 

"  I  took  you  for  Colonel  Hetherill," 
he  said.    . 

I  put  some  reproach  into  my  own  gaze. 


160  THE   LAST    REBEL 

"  I  took  you  for  Colonel  Hetherill, 
too,"  I  said. 

"  I  expected  to  take  Colonel  Hether- 
ill to  the  hut,"  he  said,  mournfully. 

"  I  expected  to  do  the  same,"  I  said, 
sadly. 

"  Since  I  can't  take  the  colonel  to  the 
hut,"  he  said,  "  I  will  take  you." 

"Very  well,  then,"  I  said.  "While 
you  are  taking  me  there,  I  will  take  you 
too.  Shake  hands,  doctor.  I'm  tremen- 
dously glad  to  see  you,  you  old  rebel." 

We  shook  hands  with  the  greatest 
good  will.  Then  he  went  to  the  tree 
and  recovered  the  rifle  which  was  lean- 
ing behind  it,  taken  by  him  in  his  flight. 
We  started  back  to  the  hut,  and  on  the 
way  he  gave  an  account  of  himself.  He 
had  fled  from  Fort  Defiance  without  any 
clear  object  in  view  except  to  escape  the 
colonel's  wrath,  which  he  believed  would 
be  but  temporary.  When  the  sleet  storm 
came  on  he  had  endured  it  for  a  while. 
At  last  he  reached  the  hut,  built  a  big 


THE   LAST   REBEL  161 

fire,  warmed  himself  thoroughly,  and  then 
went  out  to  look  for  the  colonel,  think- 
ing that  the  fierceness  of  the  weather 
would  have  chilled  his  rage  by  this  time. 

Seeing  nothing  of  him,  he  had  fired 
his  rifle  twice,  in  the  hope  of  attracting 
his  attention,  and  was  returning  to  the 
hut,  when  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  me 
and  believed  by  my  actions  that  I  was 
Colonel  Hetherill,  and  moreover  that  I 
was  Colonel  Hetherill  still  inflamed 
against  him.  Then  he  had  hidden  be- 
hind the  tree,  hoping  just  what  I  had 
hoped,  and  trying  to  do  it. 

"  If  it  had  been  the  colonel  and  he 
had  got  the  first  chance  and  fired  at  you, 
what  would  you  have  done,  doctor  ?"  I 
asked. 

"  Colonel  Hetherill  saved  my  life 
twice,  once  at  Stone  River,  and  once  at 
Chickamauga,"  he  replied ;  and  I  could 
get  no  more  direct  answer  out  him. 

The  doctor  looked  as  if  he  had  been 

having  a  hard  time  ;  there  was  no  coun- 
ii 


i6z  THE  LAST   REBEL 

terfeit  about  his  joy  at  seeing  me.  His 
face  was  haggard,  and  scales  of  ice  were 
on  his  clothing.  I  told  him  about  my 
meeting  with  the  colonel  earlier  in  the 
evening,  and  it  seemed  to  take  some  of 
the  hope  out  of  him. 

"  The  colonel  has  one  idea  fixed  in 
his  head,"  he  said,  "  and  I  do  not  think 
anything  can  drive  it  out." 

I  raised  my  voice  and  shouted  for 
Crothers,  and  in  a  few  moments  his  an- 
swering cry  came.  His  meeting  with 
the  doctor  was,  as  that  of  two  veterans 
should  be,  joyful,  but  repressed. 

We  went  back  to  the  hut,  where  we 
found  the  army  still  asleep.  But  we 
awoke  two  of  the  men,  directing  them 
to  watch  until  daylight,  while  we  three 
lay  down  upon  the  floor  and  went  to 
sleep. 

Grace's  pleasure  when  she  saw  the 
doctor  in  the  morning  sound  and  well 
was  great,  though  she  said  but  little.  I 
knew  the  relief  it  was  to  her.     But  we 


THE   LAST   REBEL  163 

began  at  once  to  organize  the  search  for 
the  last  rebel.  The  hut  was  to  remain 
a  base  of  operations  for  the  present,  and, 
despite  her  protests,  we  insisted  that 
Grace  remain  there  at  least  that  day.  I 
had  some  hope  that  the  colonel,  pressed 
by  cold  and  hunger,  might  return  to  the 
hut ;  but  the  doctor  shattered  this  hope 
by  saying  that  he  might  find  shelter  and 
food  elsewhere  in  the  mountains. 

"  He  was  fond  of  hunting,"  said  the 
doctor,  "  and  it  is  more  than  likely  that 
in  such  a  wilderness  he  provided  one  or 
more  little  camps  besides  this  for  future 
use." 

We  divided  into  two  parties.  Croth- 
ers  led  one,  and  the  doctor  the  other.  I 
went  with  the  doctor.  I  waved  my 
handkerchief  as  a  sign  of  good  cheer  to 
Grace,  who  stood  in  the  doorway,  and 
we  were  soon  in  the  mazes  of  the  higher 
mountains.  A  good  sun  came  out,  and 
in  an  hour  the  weather  had  turned  warm 
enough  to  permit  snow,  but  not  warm 


164  THE   LAST    REBEL 

enough  to  melt  the  ice  and  sleet.  The 
clouds  soon  gathered,  obscuring  the  sun, 
and  for  an  hour  we  had  a  gentle  snow 
which  covered  the  ground  a  quarter  of 
an  inch  deep,  but  did  not  trouble  us,  as 
the  morning  was  without  wind.  It  made 
our  footing  much  less  uncertain,  and  the 
doctor  drew  further  encouragement  from 
it,  as  we  might  find  the  colonel's  foot- 
steps if  he  should  move  about  after  the 
snow-fall. 

The  doctor  hoped  no  more  than  what 
proved  to  be  the  truth,  for  as  the  noon 
hour  approached,  one  of  the  men  called 
attention  to  footsteps  in  the  snow.  We 
believed  they  could  be  no  other  than  the 
colonel's,  and  we  followed  the  trail,  which 
led  along  the  hill-side  over  rocks  and 
through  scrub.  It  was  difficult  to  fol- 
low, and  we  might  well  have  credited  it 
to  a  younger  man,  had  not  the  doctor 
assured  us  that  the  colonel  was  a  most 
agile  mountaineer. 

The  trail  left  the  hill-side  shortly  and 


THE   LAST   REBEL  165 

entered  a  fairly  level  bit  of  country, 
which  by  a  stretch  of  courtesy  one 
might  have  called  a  small  plateau. 
Many  scrub  bushes  grew  upon  it,  but 
we  could  follow  the  footsteps,  whether 
they  led  through  the  thickets  or  the  open. 
The  doctor  confessed  that  the  region  was 
new  to  him,  but  from  the  direct  manner 
in  which  the  trail  led  on  he  did  not  believe 
it  was  strange  to  Colonel  Hetherill. 

The  plateau  by  and  by  dipped  down 
into  a  valley,  which  in  its  turn  gave  way 
to  a  lot  of  knife-edged  hills,  thick-set 
with  sharp  and  pointed  stones,  but  after 
this  we  had  the  plateau  again,  and  the 
trail  was  there  still  before  us,  though  it 
seemed  to  lead  straight  toward  a  white 
peak,  too  steep  for  ascent. 

The  peak  was  fringed  with  woods  at 
the  base.  As  we  approached  these 
woods  with  our  heads  down,  our  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  trail  of  footsteps  in  the 
snow,  we  were  hailed  in  a  loud  voice  and 
ordered  to  stop.     We  saw  a  little  shack 


166  THE   LAST    REBEL 

built  against  the  trunk  of  one  of  the  big 
trees.  It  was  thatched  over  with  bark ; 
under  the  pent  the  muzzle  of  a  rifle  was 
poked  out  at  us  in  the  most  alarming 
way. 

All  of  us  had  recognized  the  voice  as 
that  of  Colonel  Hetherill,  and  we  believed 
the  rifle-barrel  to  be  an  asset  of  the  same 
man. 

The  doctor  answered  the  hail  with  the 
loud  announcement  that  we  were  friends, 
but  the  colonel  bade  us  be  off  at  once  or 
he  would  shoot.  Knowing  his  temper, 
we  shifted  our  ground  with  great  prompt- 
ness. But  we  did  not  leave.  Instead,  we 
took  refuge  in  the  woods  and  undertook 
to  prepare  a  plan  of  campaign. 

The  shack  was  an  exceedingly  small 
affair,  but  from  the  roof  we  saw  a  piece 
of  old  stove-pipe  projecting,  and  we 
guessed  that  he  was  provided  against 
the  cold.  How  he  stood  in  the  matter 
of  food  and  water  we  could  not  know. 
But  we  decided  to  treat  with  him  at  once, 


THE   LAST   REBEL  167 

thinking  we  could  appeal  to  his  better 
reason.  The  doctor  hoisted  my  white 
handkerchief  on  the  end  of  a  stick  and 
approached  the  hut.  But  the  colonel 
threatened  us  again  with  the  rifle,  and 
was  all  the  more  furious  because  the 
bearer  of  the  flag  was  the  doctor,  who 
had  assisted  in  my  escape  and  therefore 
was  the  worst  traitor  in  Fort  Defiance. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

BESIEGERS    AND    BESIEGED. 

'"pHE  doctor  compelled  to  return,  I  took 
the  flag  and  advanced  with  it.  But 
the  colonel  hated  a  Yankee  spy  as  much 
as  a  traitor,  and  warned  me  off  in  short 
order.  We  gave  the  flag  to  one  of  the 
soldiers,  whom  the  colonel  allowed  to 
approach  a  little  closer.  They  held  a 
brief  dialogue,  and  then  our  messenger 
came  back  to  us,  announcing  that  the 
colonel  regarded  all  his  men  as  traitors 
or  deserters  and  would  parley  no  further 
with  them.  They  might  besiege  him  if 
they  would,  but  he  meant  to  make  a  last 
stand  for  the  Confederacy. 

"  Was  he  well  V  I  asked  the  man. 

"  I  didn't  see  him  at  all,"  he  replied, 

1 68 


THE   LAST   REBEL  169 

"for  he  talked  through  a  chink  in  the 
wall,  but  his  voice  was  mighty  high  and 
had  a  crack  in  it." 

This  confirmed  me  in  my  belief  that 
privation  and  excitement  had  mastered 
the  colonel.  Nevertheless  we  must  sit 
down  to  a  siege  of  the  last  rebel.  We 
arranged  our  forces  in  such  manner  that 
he  could  not  leave  the  hut  and  escape 
unseen  into  the  further  mountains.  We 
waited  an  hour ;  then,  as  the  colonel  in 
his  castle  made  no  sign,  I  and  a  soldier 
went  back  for  Grace.  We  found  her  in 
the  hut,  waiting  impatiently  to  hear  from 
us,  and  she  did  not  show  much  surprise 
when  I  told  her  that  her  father  had  forti- 
fied himself  against  us. 

She  came  at  once  with  us,  and  we 
sent  her  to  the  colonel's  castle.  She  re- 
turned in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  much 
cast  down,  and  told  us  he  was  in  a  fever, 
with  wild  eyes  and  flushed  face.  He 
refused  to  come  out,  and  nothing  she 
said  could  move  him.     He  even  spoke 


i7o  THE   LAST    REBEL 

harsh  words  to  her,  saying  she  had  joined 
his  enemies.  We  sent  her  back  with  a 
couple  of  blankets  and  some  provisions, 
and  then  she  returned  to  us  again.  The 
colonel  would  allow  no  second  person  in 
his  defensive  works. 

It  looked  like  a  long  siege,  and  we 
prepared  for  it.  We  soon  found  Croth- 
ers  and  his  party,  and  we  built  another 
shack  in  the  woods,  bringing  from  it  the 
furs  and  other  useful  articles  in  the  hut. 
It  was  well  that  we  did  the  work  quickly, 
for  Grace  fell  quite  ill  with  hardships  and 
excitement,  and  soon  was  in  a  fever  and 
talking  a  bit  wildly. 

We  put  her  in  the  shack  on  a  bed  of 
furs,  and  Dr.  Ambrose,  who  did  not  have 
the  title  of  doctor  in  vain,  attended  her, 
and  said  she  would  be  all  right  in  a  day 
or  so.  But  her  illness  was  a  misfortune, 
for  she  was  the  only  one  who  could  be 
considered  a  strict  neutral  and  could 
carry  messages  between  our  little  army 
and  the  colonel. 


THE   LAST    REBEL  171 

We  were  sufficient  in  number  to  form 
a  picket  around  Fort  Hetherill,  for  so  I 
named  the  colonel's  shack,  but  we  were 
very  careful  not  to  come  within  range  of 
its  defender's  rifle.  One  of  the  men,  a 
good  fellow  named  Kimball,  went  a  little 
closer  than  the  rest  of  us,  and  the 
prompt  discharge  of  the  rifle  from  Fort 
Hetherill  showed  that  the  colonel  was 
watching.  The  bullet  skipped  across 
the  ice  fifty  feet  short  of  its  mark.  Kim- 
ball moved  farther  away. 

Having  posted  the  men,  I  made  a 
round  and  cautioned  each  to  watch 
faithfully.  But  the  caution  was  scarcely 
necessary.  Every  man  there  was  under 
heavy  obligations  to  the  colonel  for 
something  or  other,  and  all  meant  to 
take  him  alive. 

It  was  cold  work  there  on  the  ice,  but 
we  had  brought  provisions  with  us,  and 
that  supply,  coupled  with  what  was 
stored  in  the  hut,  prepared  us  amply  for 
a  siege  in  form.     We  made  some  coffee 


172  THE   LAST   REBEL 

and  served  it  to  the  men  on  picket  duty, 
following  it  up  a  little  later  with  a  nip 
of  whiskey  for  each,  and  they  felt  quite 
warm  and  comfortable.  The  colonel, 
after  his  rifle-shot,  rested  on  his  arms  and 
maybe  looked  to  his  defences.  The 
piece  of  old  stove-pipe  which  projected 
through  the  roof  began  to  smoke,  show- 
ing that  he  had  firewood  and  that  he  too 
was  able  to  keep  warm.  It  looked  like 
a  long  siege. 

The  general  commanding,  who  was 
myself,  and  Crothers,  the  second  in  com- 
mand, held  a  council  of  war  and  decided 
to  postpone  operations  until  nightfall, 
when  Crothers  thought  he  would  be 
able  under  cover  of  the  darkness  to  steal 
upon  the  colonel  and  take  him.  Then 
we  waited  for  the  slow  afternoon  to  limp 
away.  The  sun  was  of  a  dazzling 
brightness,  but  there  was  no  warmth  in 
it.  The  ice-fields  glittered  under  the 
rays,  but  did  not  melt.  The  light  was 
reflected,   and   with    half-shut   eyes   we 


THE   LAST   REBEL  173 

watched  the  peaks  and  the  coated  trees. 
Sometimes  faint  blue,  purple,  and  green 
tints  showed  through  the  white  glare. 

"  Crothers,"  said  I,  "  if  ever  I  go  on 
another  winter  campaign  like  this,  I  will 
not  forget  a  pair  of  green  goggles,  large- 
est  size." 

"I  wish  I  had  them  now,"  said 
Crothers. 

The  glow  on  the  ice-fields  turned  to 
gold  as  the  sun  began  to  set  behind  the 
highest  peak,  from  gold  shifted  to  a 
blood-red,  and  as  the  sun  went  out  of 
sight  faded  and  left  the  pale  green  of  a 
wan  twilight. 

"  These  sheets  of  ice  are  in  our  way 
in  more  ways  than  one,"  said  Crothers. 
"  They  light  up  the  night  so  much  that 
I  could  put  a  bullet  in  a  silver  quarter  at 
twenty  paces." 

"  Do  you  think  the  colonel  could  do 
as  wen"?"  I  asked,  somewhat  anxiously. 

We  thought  it  well  to  wait  until  past 
midnight,    when   the    night   would    be 


i74  THE   LAST   REBEL 

darkest.  So  we  served  supper  and  hot 
coffee,  relieved  the  pickets,  and  waited. 
The  colonel  in  his  fortress  seemed  to  be 
content :  at  least  he  gave  no  sign.  Dr. 
Ambrose  reported  that  Miss  Hetherill 
was  much  better  and  would  be  on  her 
feet  again  in  the  morning.  The  night 
limped  as  painfully  as  the  day,  and  had 
the  added  demerit  of  being  colder. 

A  wind  came  down  from  the  north- 
east, and  there  was  a  raw  sharp  edge  to 
it.  I  shivered  and  my  bones  creaked 
with  cold  inside  the  heavy  overcoat 
Crothers  had  given  me.  May  the  good 
Lord  deliver  me  from  any  more  winter 
campaigns  !  The  moon,  pale  and  icy, 
rose,  and  its  chilly  rays  were  reflected 
from  the  more  chilly  ice.  Pieces  of  ice 
blown  from  the  crusted  boughs  rattled 
dryly  as  they  fell. 

As  Crothers  had  foretold,  the  white 
glare  of  the  earth  lighted  up  the  night 
until  objects  were  almost  as  distinct  as  by 
daylight.     The  outlines  of  Fort  Hether- 


THE   LAST    REBEL  175 

ill  were  clear.  I  could  even  trace  the 
ridges  in  the  bark.  Any  of  us  advancing 
would  make  a  most  beautiful  target,  and 
we  stuck  to  our  determination  to  wait 
for  further  darkness. 

The  column  of  smoke  from  the  col- 
onel's hut  increased,  as  if  he  too  felt  the 
growing  cold  and  would  ward  it  off. 
Midnight  came,  and  shortly  afterward 
the  heavens  began  to  darken.  The  out- 
lines of  Fort  Hetherill  grew  dimmer.  I 
could  no  longer  trace  the  ridges  in  the 
bark ;  then  the  hut  itself  became  an  in- 
distinct mass,  seeming  to  wave  in  the 
wind,  which  still  came  down  from  the 
mountain-tops  and  presented  bayonet- 
points  to  us.  The  time  seemed  favor- 
able for  an  advance  upon  the  enemy's 
fortifications.  Our  plan  was  very  simple  ; 
we  formed  a  circle  around  the  hut,  in- 
tending to  contract  this  circle  until  we 
reached  the  house  itself,  when  we  would 
rush  in  and  seize  the  garrison.  The 
difficult  part  of  it  was  to  steal  up  so 


176  THE   LAST   REBEL 

silently  that  the  garrison  would  not  hear 
us  coming :  to  do  it  we  would  be  com- 
pelled to  creep  along,  taking  advantage 
of  every  elevation  that  would  shelter  us. 

Crothers  and  I  started  from  adjacent 
points  in  the  little  wood,  and  set  out 
upon  our  hazardous  advance.  The 
ground  was  broken  and  rough,  and  I 
soon  lost  sight  of  him,  but,  despite  his 
efforts  to  be  noiseless,  I  could  hear  his 
heavy-soled  boots  scraping  over  the  ice, 
and  his  breath  puffy  like  that  of  a  man 
who  was  working  hard.  I  dare  say  I 
was  interrupting  the  atmosphere  in  a 
similar  manner ;  but  then  I  was  criti- 
cising Crothers,  not  myself. 

I  got  along  pretty  well,  and  was  half- 
way to  Fort  Hetherill.  I  ceased  to  hear 
Crothers  for  two  or  three  minutes,  and 
then  I  heard  him  scraping  along  and 
puffing  as  before.  As  we  had  come 
half  the  distance  without  trouble  or  re- 
sistance, I  thought  I  would  go  over  to 
him  and  hold  another  conference.      It 


THE   LAST   REBEL  177 

seemed  to  me  that  we  needed  at  least 
one  more  council  of  war  before  attack- 
ing the  hut,  if  we  were  to  follow 
strictly  the  mode  of  procedure  prescribed 
in  the  military  manuals. 

Turning  about,  I  crept  and  slid  to- 
ward him  until  a  little  ridge  not  more 
than  half  a  foot  high  divided  us.  I 
could  see  his  figure  stretched  out  on  the 
ice,  and  I  reached  out  to  touch  him. 
But  I  was  anticipated,  for  he  reached  up 
and  grasped  me  by  the  throat  with  two 
very  strong  hands.  Then  I  saw  that  in- 
stead of  stalking  Colonel  Hetherill,  he 
had  stalked  me,  the  stalker  was  stalked, 
and  I  recognized  in  it  a  fact  as  painful  as 
it  was  alarming. 

The  colonel  seemed  to  me  to  be  pro- 
digiously strong  for  the  sick  man  the 
soldier  had  reported  him  to  be.  His 
hands  compressed  my  throat  so  tightly 
that  I  could  not  cry  out,  and  my  limbs 
were  paralyzed ;  an  unpleasant  situation 
for  an  invading  army,  I  willingly  admit. 


178  THE   LAST  REBEL 

The  colonel's  eyes  were  angry,  and  his 
face  was  very  red,  which  could  be  the 
result  both  of  fever  and  of  wrath.  Both, 
I  think,  added  to  the  strength  of  his 
arms. 

He  sat  up  on  the  ice  and  held  me  out 
at  arm's  length  like  a  big  doll.  I  knew 
that  Crothers  was  near,  and  I  wanted  to 
cry  out  instantly  and  wanted  to  do  it 
very  badly ;  but  for  the  life  of  me  I 
could  not,  with  that  old  Confederate's 
iron  fingers  on  my  throat.  I  had  no 
doubt  that  Crothers  and  the  men  would 
continue  to  creep  upon  the  hut,  rush 
into  it,  and  find  nobody  there.  Mean- 
while, I  would  be  turning  into  a  cold 
corpse  on  the  ice. 

The  colonel  released  his  hold  upon  my 
throat  so  suddenly  that  I  fell  upon  my 
back  and  gasped,  which,  however,  was 
much  better  than  not  breathing  at  all. 

"Why  did  you  do  that?"  I  asked, 
feeling  injured  in  the  spirit  as  well  as  in 
the  flesh. 


THE   LAST   REBEL  179 

"  It  was  my  intention  to  kill  you,"  he 
said,  "  but  I've  changed  my  mind." 

"  Thank  heaven !"  I  exclaimed,  de- 
voutly. 

"  I  couldn't  do  it ;  it  was  too  easy," 
he  said. 

If  that  was  the  reason,  I  was  not  so 
thankful.  But  I  considered  it  good 
policy  not  to  explain  my  views  just 
then.  Although  the  colonel  had  released 
me,  he  kept  his  hand  on  the  butt  of  a 
very  large  pistol  in  his  belt.  I  thought 
it  wise  to  withdraw. 

"  Good-evening,  colonel,"  I  said,  giving 
the  military  salute  as  well  as  I  could  in 
my  undignified  position. 

"  Good-evening,"  he  said.  "  This  is  a 
sortie  of  mine,  understand,  and  if  I  have 
chosen  to  spare  your  life,  it  is  for  reasons 
of  my  own.  I  am  going  back  into  my 
house,  and  you  would  better  notify  your 
friends  that  I  am  awake  and  on  guard. 
It  may  save  them  much  hard  work  and 
a  little  loss  of  blood." 


180  THE   LAST   REBEL 

He  slipped  back  over  the  ice  toward 
the  fort  with  an  agility  marvellous  in  an 
old  and  ill  man.  Despite  his  calm  man- 
ner, I  had  no  doubt  that  fever  was  still 
in  his  veins.  Being  so  nervous  and  ex- 
citable when  well,  it  was  natural  that  he 
should  be  calm  when  ill,  especially  in 
certain  stages. 

I  could  see  him  for  at  least  twenty 
feet,  and  then  he  disappeared  in  the 
darkness  that  now  clothed  the  hut  like  a 
mask  on  a  man's  face.  I  felt  no  doubt 
that  he  was  inside,  ready  to  shoot  down 
the  first  man  who  attempted  to  enter 
after  him. 

In  this  emergency  I  thought  it  best  to 
find  Crothers,  notify  him  that  the  attack 
had  failed,  and  withdraw  our  forces.  I 
believe  a  prudent  general  always  with- 
draws when  things  go  wrong.  More- 
over, I  was  getting  very  cold.  Em- 
bracing the  earth  when  it  has  an  inch 
coat  of  ice  on  its  bosom  is  no  such  de- 
lightful proceeding. 


THE   LAST   REBEL  181 

Putting  my  ear  to  the  ice,  I  heard 
the  scraping  of  Crothers's  hobnails  not 
fifteen  feet  away.  I  was  sure  that  I  was 
making  no  mistake  this  time,  and  I 
speedily  overhauled  him,  to  find  that  it 
was  the  real  Crothers.  He  coincided 
with  my  view  that  it  would  be  better  to 
withdraw,  like  the  King  of  France  of 
the  ancient  rhyme,  and  try  again.  He 
gave  a  whistle  which  may  have  been  a 
part  of  the  Confederate  set  of  signals, 
though  I  don't  know,  and  in  a  few  min- 
utes our  entire  army  had  retreated  and 
reassembled  at  our  own  hut,  casualties 
none,  and  the  enemy  still  in  possession 
of  his  defences. 

As  we  had  satisfactory  proof  that  the 
colonel  was  vigilant,  we  decided  to  end 
the  military  operations  for  that  night  and 
devote  what  was  left  of  it  to  keeping 
warm.  The  hut  was  occupied  by  Miss 
Hetherill,  whom  the  doctor  reported  to 
be  in  a  sound  slumber  and  doing  well. 
As  all  the  space  under  shelter  was  neces- 


1 82  THE   LAST   REBEL 

sarily  reserved  for  the  lady,  we  decided 
to  build  a  big  fire  near  the  hut  and  sit 
around  it  until  morning.  It  was  a  hard 
task,  owing  to  the  icy  condition  of  the 
firewood,  but  we  got  it  to  going  at 
last,  and  the  cheerful,  crackling  blaze 
put  heart  in  us  all.  We  had  no  fear 
that  the  colonel  would  come  out  and 
shoot  at  us  in  the  light.  He  was  not 
that  kind  of  a  soldier,  and,  besides,  his 
plan,  as  far  as  we  could  divine  it,  was  to 
escape  from  us,  not  to  inflict  any  special 
injury  upon  us. 

Dr.  Ambrose  was  somewhat  cast  down 
at  our  failure  to  seize  the  colonel  at  the 
first  attempt,  but  his  spirits  were  revived 
presently,  and  when  I  asked  him  to  tell 
me  about  some  of  the  old  battles  in 
which  he  and  the  colonel  and  the  others 
present  except  myself  had  fought,  he 
became  animated  and  time  ceased  to 
limp. 

An  hour  of  this,  and  the  doctor  broke 
off  abruptly.     As  Crothers   and  I  had 


THE   LAST   REBEL  183 

been  in  the  thick  of  the  campaign  all 
the  time,  he  suggested  that  we  roll  our- 
selves in  our  blankets  and  try  to  get  a 
little  sleep  by  the  fire.  We  followed  his 
advice,  and  in  five  minutes  I  was  dead 
to  the  world  and  its  vanities.  But  pres- 
ently I  was  dragged  back  out  of  infinite 
depths  and  told  to  sit  up  and  open  my 
eyes. 

"  Why,  I  have  just  closed  them,  and 
it  was  at  your  suggestion,"  I  said  to 
Crothers. 

"  You've  been  asleep  for  the  last  three 
hours.  Wake  up  and  look  at  the 
weather." 

I  thought  the  weather  a  trifling  pretext 
to  awake  a  man  from  such  pleasant 
slumbers,  but  when  I  looked  about  I  saw 
better.  The  air  had  turned  much  warmer. 
There  was  a  smack  of  wet  in  it,  which 
to  an  experienced  man  was  certain  proof 
of  snow  to  come,  and  more  of  it,  too, 
than  the  thin  skim  of  the  day  before. 
Even  in  the  skies,  naturally  dark  from 


1 84  THE   LAST   REBEL 

the  night,  we  could  see  heavy  masses  of 
clouds  rolling. 

"  It  will  begin  inside  of  a  half-hour," 
said  Dr.  Ambrose. 

"And  a  snow-storm  in  the  moun- 
tains is  no  light  matter,  doctor,"  I 
said. 

"  Certainly  not." 

A  deep  snow  would  be  sure  to  put  a 
great  check  upon  our  military  opera- 
tions ;  it  might  even  make  our  own 
situation  precarious,  for  one  must  have 
food  and  keep  warm.  We  bestirred 
ourselves  with  the  utmost  vigor,  gather- 
ing firewood,  and  soon  had  a  huge  heap 
of  it  beside  the  hut.  But  the  snow  came 
inside  the  doctor's  predicted  half-hour, 
and  with  ten  minutes  to  spare.  The 
clouds  opened,  and  it  just  dropped  down. 
The  skim  of  ice  was  soon  covered,  which 
was  an  advantage,  saving  us  some  falls 
and  bruises,  but  it  impeded  the  work  on 
our  new  house.  It  was  perfectly  obvi- 
ous to  us  all  that  we  must  have  shelter 


THE   LAST   REBEL  185 

from  such  a  snow-fall.  We  were  trying 
to  make  a  sort  of  rude  shed  with  sticks 
and  brushwood  in  the  lee  of  a  cliff.  My 
comrades  were  old  hands  at  the  business, 
and  it  was  marvellous  how  expert  they 
were :  with  some  sticks  and  brushwood, 
two  or  three  blankets  to  help  out  on  the 
roof,  and  even  the  snow  itself,  which  they 
banked  up  in  ridges  at  the  sides,  they 
made  a  comfortable  place. 

I  was  busy  on  this  rude  structure  and 
trying  to  keep  the  snow  out  of  my  eyes, 
when  some  one  tapped  me  on  the  shoul- 
der and  said, — 

"You  are  a  promising  architect,  Mr. 
West." 

I  looked  around  in  the  greatest  sur- 
prise, and  beheld  Grace  Hetherill,  pale, 
but  otherwise  showing  no  traces  of  illness. 
The  heavy  dark  cloak  which  she  wore 
when  we  started  was  buttoned  high  up 
around  her  throat,  and  a  neat  dark  fur 
cap  enclosed  her  hair.  She  looked  very 
handsome  and  picturesque. 


1 86  THE   LAST    REBEL 

"  I  congratulate  you,  Miss  Hetherill, 
on  your  speedy  recovery,"  I  said. 

"  It  was  merely  nervousness  and  ex- 
citement," she  replied.  "  A  draught  of 
something  very  bitter  that  Dr.  Ambrose 
gave  me,  and  a  good  sleep,  have  restored 
me." 

"  Very  well,"  I  said,  thinking  to  cheer 
her  up :  "  then  there  is  no  reason  why 
you  should  not  help  in  the  making  of 
the  camp,  and  show  that  you  are  a  better 
architect  than  I  am." 

"  I  am  mountain-bred  in  part  at  least," 
she  said,  "  and  I  know  hardships.  What 
may  I  do?" 

"  Take  hold  of  the  end  of  that  pole," 
I  said,  "  and  lift." 

She  seized  it  and  with  strong  young 
muscles  lifted  it  up.  I  was  at  the  other 
end,  and  together  we  swung  it  into 
place. 

"  That  does  pretty  well  for  a  rebel  lass," 
I  said. 

"  Here,  you  are  the  rebel,"  she  said, 


THE   LAST   REBEL  187 

"  for  this  is  our  territory  and  you  are  our 
prisoner." 

"What's  this?  what's  this?"  cried 
Dr.  Ambrose.  His  back  had  been 
turned  toward  us,  and  he  had  not  seen 
the  approach  of  Miss  Hetherill.  "  Just 
up  from  a  fever  and  out  here  in  the 
snow  !     Go  back  in  the  hut." 

There  was  sound  sense  in  his  com- 
mand, and  I  added  my  advice  to  it,  but 
she  would  not  go  until  we  assured  her 
that  Colonel  Hetherill  was  safe  in  his 
own  hut  and  pointed  to  the  curl  of 
smoke  which  still  came  from  his  stove- 
pipe. 

On  second  thought  we  took  our  own 
little  hut  and  moved  it  bodily  to  the 
shed,  deeming  it  best  that  all  our  forces 
should  keep  as  close  together  as  possible. 
Then,  our  main  task  finished,  we  took 
breakfast,  and  watched  the  snow,  casting 
an  occasional  glance  toward  Fort  Hether- 
ill. We  were  glad  on  the  whole  now  that 
the  snow  had  come,  for  if  we  should  be 


188  THE   LAST   REBEL 

snowed  up  the  colonel  would  be  treated 
likewise,  and  perhaps  it  would  induce 
him  to  hoist  the  white  flag. 

The  day  had  come,  but  it  was  a  very 
dark  and  dreary  pattern  of  a  day.  I 
have  seen  some  people  who  imagine  that 
Kentucky  has  a  warm  climate.  It  may 
have  in  summer,  and  so,  for  the  matter 
of  that,  has  Manitoba,  but  for  real  deep 
snows  or  piercing  cold  that  goes  right 
through  your  bones  and  comes  out  on 
the  other  side,  I  will  match  the  Kentucky 
mountains  against  anything  this  side  of 
the  Arctic  circle. 

The  snow  that  morning  seemed  bent 
upon  making  a  record.  Some  of  the 
flakes  looked  like  big  white  goose  feath- 
ers. Nor  was  there  any  nonsense  about 
them.  They  came  straight  down  and 
took  their  appointed  place  on  the  earth  ; 
others  immediately  fell  and  covered  them 
up,  and  in  turn  were  served  the  same 
way.  There  was  no  wind  at  all.  The 
clouds  were  drawn   like   a   huge   dirty 


THE   LAST   REBEL  189 

blanket  across  the  sky,  and  gave  to 
everything  except  the  snow  itself  a 
muddy,  grayish-brown  tint.  Presently 
we  heard  a  sharp  report  in  the  adjacent 
forest,  and  then  another,  followed  speedily 
by  another  and  many  others,  until  they 
blended  often  together  like  a  rolling  rifle- 
fire.  A  dreaming  veteran  might  have 
thought  he  was  back  in  the  wars,  but 
none  of  us  stirred,  for  each  knew  that  it 
was  the  boughs  of  the  trees  breaking  with 
a  snap  under  the  weight  of  new  snow. 

"  That  might  scare  a  man  who  was 
never  in  the  woods  in  big-snow  time," 
said  Crothers,  who  had  lighted  a  pipe 
and  was  taking  things  calmly. 

The  snow  deepened  faster  than  I  had 
ever  seen  it  before.  I  could  mark  it  by 
the  way  the  surface  lines  crept  up  the 
side  of  our  rude  shed.  A  few  hours  of 
such  industrious  clouds  and  the  moun- 
tains would  be  past  travelling.  The 
skies  made  promise  of  nothing  else. 
There  was  no  break  in  the  dun  expanse. 


190  THE   LAST   REBEL 

The  defiant  curl  of  smoke  from  the 
colonel's  little  fort  still  rose.  I  devoutly 
hoped  that  he  would  remember  soon  to 
come  out  and  join  us.  Then  we  could 
go  back  together  to  Fort  Defiance,  and 
make  merry  behind  stout  walls  that  cared 
nothing  for  snow  and  cold.  But  his  hut 
remained  tightly  closed,  and  the  snow 
was  deepening  as  fast  as  ever. 

Since  the  colonel  would  make  no 
sign,  it  became  evident  to  me  that  we 
must.  I  called  again  my  council  of 
officers,  the  doctor  and  Crothers. 

"  There  is  nothing  for  us  to  do,"  I 
said,  "but  send  Miss  Hetherill  to  the 
hut  and  see  if  she  cannot  persuade  her 
father  to  join  us." 

"  He  has  said  that  he  would  not  admit 
her  a  second  time,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  She  must  push  her  way  in,"  I  said. 
"  The  door  to  that  hut  is  not  strong,  and 
a  father  would  not  fire  upon  his  own 
daughter." 

They  agreed  that   my  plan  was   the 


THE   LAST   REBEL  191 

only  thing  feasible,  and  we  called  Miss 
Hetherill.  She  was  eager  to  undertake 
the  mission.  She  had  been  waiting  to 
propose  it,  but  held  back,  expecting  us 
to  act  first. 

She  started  at  once  toward  the  hut, 
which  was  only  two  or  three  hundred 
yards  away,  but  her  progress  was  slow. 
The  snow,  which  had  now  attained  a 
great  depth,  blocked  the  way.  We 
watched  her  breaking  her  path  through 
it  toward  the  hut,  where  the  colonel  was 
silent  and  invisible.  The  little  building 
seemed  almost  crushed  under  its  weight 
of  snow,  but  the  languid  coil  of  smoke 
still  curled  from  the  mouth  of  the  pipe. 
Miss  Hetherill  was  within  twenty  feet 
of  the  door. 

"  The  colonel  hasn't  taken  notice  yet," 
said  the  doctor. ,  "  It  would  be  funny  if 
she  should  find  him  sound  asleep  and  in 
our  power  for  hours,  if  we  had  only 
thought  to  take  him." 

I  watched  with   eager  interest  as  the 


192  THE  LAST   REBEL 

twenty  feet  between  Miss  Hetherill  and 
the  door  diminished.  She  reached  the 
door  and  knocked.  As  she  stood  there 
and  waited,  I  guessed  that  she  received 
no  answer.  She  knocked  a  second  time, 
waited  a  minute  or  so,  and  then  pushed 
the  door  open  and  entered.  She  ran  out 
again  in  a  moment,  uttering  a  cry  and 
turning  a  dismayed  face  toward  us. 

We  ran  to  the  hut  as  fast  as  we  could, 
plunging  through  the  snow.  I  was  the 
first  to  arrive :  when  I  thrust  my  head 
in  at  the  open  door,  I  saw  that  the  place 
was  empty.  Some  coals  still  smoul- 
dered upon  the  flat  stone  which  served 
for  a  rude  fireplace  ;  a  dressed  deer-skin 
lay  in  the  corner ;  but  the  colonel  was 
gone  beyond  a  doubt.  One  large  man 
would  nearly  fill  the  place. 

"  He's  taken  his  rifle  and  ammunition 
with  him,"  said  Crothers,  "so  he's  all 
right." 

I  was  glad  that  he  had  called  attention 
to  the  fact  so  promptly,  for  it  seemed  to 


THE   LAST   REBEL  193 

indicate  deliberation  and  not  delirium  on 
the  colonel's  part. 

There  was  no  need  to  ask  what  next 
from  the  men  about  me.  Their  obli- 
gations to  the  colonel  would  never  permit 
them  to  abandon  the  search  for  him  as 
long  as  one  hope  that  he  was  alive  existed. 
But  the  great  snow  was  a  formidable  ob- 
stacle to  any  expedition. 

"  How  shall  we  go  about  it  ?"  I  asked, 
hopelessly,  of  Dr.  Ambrose. 

"  There  is  no  trail,"  he  replied  ;  "  the 
falling  snow  covers  up  his  footsteps  a 
half-minute  after  he  makes  them ;  but 
he  must  have  gone  up  that  slash  through 
the  hills  there.  It  is  the  easiest  route 
from  here,  and  the  one  a  man  with  no  fixed 
idea  in  his  head  would  most  likely  take." 

There  was  a  general  agreement  with 
the  doctor's  opinion,  and  we  planned  our 
pursuit  at  once.  Four  men  would  re- 
main at  the  camp  and  protect  it,  and  re- 
lieve us  should  we  return  exhausted  and 
without  the  fugitive.  Miss  Hetherill 
13 


i94  THE   LAST   REBEL 

would  remain  with  them.  She  made 
some  demur,  saying  she  was  a  good 
mountaineer  and  citing  proof,  but  she 
yielded  to  the  obvious  fact  that  a  woman 
could  make  but  little  progress  through 
the  deep  snow. 

"  We  will  be  sure  to  bring  him  back," 
I  said  to  her  when  we  started. 

"  Take  care  of  yourself  too,"  she  said. 

"  For  my  sake  only  ?"  I  asked. 

"  For  all  our  sakes,"  she  replied. 

But  she  blushed  a  little,  despite  the 
anxiety  which  was  foremost  in  her  mind. 

We  passed  up  the  defile,  and  then  our 
party  spread  out  like  a  fan.  I  was  con- 
vinced that  the  colonel  could  not  have 
gone  far.  The  snow  was  an  added  ob- 
stacle to  the  naturally  difficult  character 
of  the  mountains.  It  was  still  pouring 
down,  half  blinding  us,  and  compelling  us 
to  scrutinize  every  inch  of  the  way  lest  the 
loosening  drifts  should  carry  us  in  an  ava- 
lanche to  the  bottom  of  some  precipice, 
which  would  be  highly  disagreeable. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

THE    RESULTS    OF    A    SNOW-SLIDE. 

F\R-  AMBROSE  and  I  stuck  together, 
picking  our  way  through  the 
storm.  Snow-covered  mountains  under 
an  angry  sky  are  not  a  cheerful  prospect, 
and  the  work  was  fearfully  tiresome. 
Down  my  boot  would  crush  under  my 
weight  through  a  foot  of  snow,  and  to 
lift  it  out  again  was  like  drawing  a  wedge 
from  a  log. 

It  was  winter,  but  I  grew  hot,  and  my 
brow  produced  sweat.  My  breath 
shortened,  and  my  muscles  said  they 
were  tired.     The  doctor  noticed  me. 

"  You'd  better  go  back,  Mr.  West," 
he  said.  "  This  is  very  exhausting  busi- 
ness for  one  who  is  not  used  to  it." 

195 


196  THE  LAST   REBEL 

But  I  was  a  bit  ashamed  of  playing 
out  so  soon,  and  insisted  upon  going  on. 
He  said  nothing  then,  but  when  he 
raised  the  question  a  half-hour  later  I 
was  forced  to  confess  that  he  was  right. 
A  tuckered-out  man  was  of  no  use  on 
such  a  trail. 

"  You'd  better  go  straight  back  to  the 
camp,  and  I've  no  doubt  you'll  find  one 
or  two  there  who  played  out  before  you 
did,"  he  said. 

Leaving  him  regretfully,  I  faced  about 
and  began  to  plough  my  way  through 
the  snow  on  the  return  journey.  I  had 
noted  the  landmarks  well,  and  recog- 
nized them  easily.  The  snow,  still  fall- 
ing, had  buried  all  trace  of  our  footsteps 
under  two  or  three  inches  of  white.  I 
tugged  along  with  a  fair  degree  of  pa- 
tience, wishing  at  the  same  time  that  I 
was  back  at  the  camp,  drying  my  boots 
and  drinking  a  hot  toddy, — unpicturesque 
but  pleasant  occupations.  But  walking 
beat  wishing,  and  at  last  I  saw  the  smoke 


THE   LAST   REBEL  197 

of  our  camp-fire  over  a  hill.  I  increased 
my  speed,  trying  to  make  a  run  through 
the  deep  snow.  I  passed  near  the  edge 
of  a  cliff,  but  no  nearer  than  we  had 
gone  when  we  started  on  the  search.  I 
forgot  that  the  snow  had  grown  deeper 
and  more  weight  was  pressing  down 
upon  the  slopes.  When  I  was  nearest 
the  edge  the  snow  seemed  to  slip  from 
under  my  feet ;  the  mountain  tilted  up 
at  a  new  angle  ;  there  was  the  rumble  of 
tons  of  snow  sliding  over  the  steeps,  and 
away  it  went  in  a  huge  white  avalanche, 
bearing  me,  who  had  started  it,  upon 
its  crest,  sick  with  sudden  fear. 

The  itch  of  life  was  in  my  fingers ;  it, 
and  no  thought  of  mine,  made  me  reach 
out  and  grasp  at  the  sturdy  shrubs  which 
grew  on  the  mountain-side.  With  each 
hand  full,  I  hung  on,  and  shouted  and 
kicked.  Big  waves  of  snow  tumbled 
over  me  and  loosened  my  arms  in  their 
sockets,  but  I  swung  to  my  brave 
bushes  until  I  had  received  my  last  douse 


198  THE   LAST   REBEL 

of  snow  and  the  slope  was  swept 
clean. 

I  managed  to  get  my  toes  into  a  cleft, 
and  my  arms  felt  better.  My  head  was 
beginning  to  think  and  come  to  the  re- 
lief of  instinct.  I  saw  that  I  was  about 
ten  feet  from  the  crest  of  the  cliff;  which 
was  not  far,  but  too  far.  I  tried  to  draw 
myself  up  by  the  bushes,  but  I  was  no 
sailor,  and  I  failed.  Then  I  shouted 
with  all  my  might.  I  had  seen  the 
smoke  of  the  camp  just  before  my  fall, 
and  I  hoped  my  voice  would  reach  the 
men  there.  I  never  knew  before  that  I 
had  such  a  good  voice. 

"  Hello-o-o-o  !"  I  shouted. 

The  mountains  took  up  the  cry  and 
sent  it  back  to  me. 

"What's  the  matter  down  there?" 
called  out  some  one. 

"  The  matter  ?"  I  said,  angrily. 
"  There's  no  matter  at  all ;  I  came  down 
here  merely  for  amusement.  I  do  this 
sort  of  thing  often." 


THE   LAST   REBEL  199 

I  looked  up  and  saw  the  red  face  of 
Colonel  Hetherill  peeping  over  the  brink 
at  me. 

"Ah,  it's  young  West,  the  Yankee 
spy,"  he  said. 

"  I'm  young  West,  I'll  admit,  but  I'm 
no  Yankee  spy,"  I  replied. 

"  I  insist  that  you  are  a  Yankee  spy," 
he  said,  in  an  infernally  calm  and  con- 
vincing manner.  "  What  proof  can  you 
give  that  you  are  not  ?" 

"  Colonel,"  I  cried,  and  I'm  sure  that 
my  tone  was  convincing,  "  for  heaven's 
sake  drop  that  Yankee  spy  business  and 
get  me  out  of  this." 

"Sir,"  he  said,  very  stiffly,  "I  have 
accused  you  of  being  a  Yankee  spy,  and 
I  will  compel  you  to  admit  that  you  are 
a  Yankee  spy." 

"  Colonel,"  I  shouted,  "  my  arms  are 
growing  tired,  and  so  are  my  toes,  and 
it  is  at  least  two  hundred  feet  to  the 
bottom." 

"  Sir,"   he   said,    still    very   stiff   and 


200  THE   LAST    REBEL 

haughty,  "  I  despise  falsehoods,  and  so 
do  all  Southern  gentlemen.  You  are  a 
Yankee  spy,  and  you  still  have  the  face 
to  deny  it." 

"  Pull  me  up  colonel,"  I  cried.  "  I'm 
getting  awful  tired." 

"Are  you  not  a  Yankee  spy1?"  he 
asked. 

I  thought  I  felt  some  of  the  muscles 
in  my  arms  cracking.  The  time  to  de- 
spise trifles  had  arrived. 

"Yes,  colonel,"  I  said,  "I'll  admit 
that  I'm  a  Yankee  spy  or  anything  else 
you  want  to  charge  against  me." 

"Good  enough,"  he  said.  "Now 
when  I  let  my  coat  down,  grip  it  with 
your  right  hand,  and  hold  on  as  if  you 
had  grown  to  it." 

He  pulled  off  his  Confederate  over- 
coat, curved  his  left  arm  around  a  jutting 
rock,  and  with  his  right  hand  lowered 
the  coat  to  me.  I  embedded  my  right 
hand  in  the  gray  garment,  and,  grasping 
with  the  other  a^t  the  short  shrubs,  tried  to 


THE   LAST   REBEL  201 

scramble  up.  I  did  get  about  half-way, 
but  as  I  could  find  no  more  crevices  for 
my  toes,  I  hung  there,  limp  and  exhausted. 

"  I  can't  do  it,  colonel,"  I  gasped. 

"  You  must,"  he  said. 

He  tried  to  draw  me  up,  but  I  was  too 
heavy  a  weight  for  a  single  arm.  He 
was  half  over  the  gulf  himself,  but  his 
left  arm  was  wound  like  a  cable  around 
the  rock.  His  face  was  red  as  a  beet 
and  his  breath  was  short,  but  he  showed 
no  inclination  to  let  go. 

"  You  can't  do  it,  colonel,"  I  gasped. 
"  Save  yourself!  No  need  for  both  of  us 
to  drop." 

"  What  sort  of  a  man  do  you  take  me 
to  be  *?"  he  asked,  indignantly. 

He  breathed  hard  and  made  a  great 
effort  to  pull  me  up.  A  flake  of  blood 
appeared  on  his  temple.  I  was  raised  up 
about  a  foot  and  got  a  new  grip  on  some 
of  the  shrubs,  but  there  I  stopped.  I 
could  not  lift  myself  up  any  farther, 
nor  could  the  colonel  lift  me. 


202  THE    LAST   REBEL 

I  could  hear  men  plunging  through 
the  snow  in  their  haste ;  so  my  shouts 
had  been  heard  by  more  than  the  col- 
onel. I  put  my  voice  to  its  best  uses 
again.  The  colonel  said  nothing,  but 
how  he  hung  on  to  that  old  army  over- 
coat !  The  men  had  begun  to  shout, 
and  I  never  ceased,  wanting  them  to 
make  sure  of  the  direction.  Weather- 
seamed  faces  looked  over  the  brink. 
Two  or  three  pairs  of  hands  grasped  the 
overcoat  and  pulled  me  up.  Somebody 
else  seized  the  colonel,  and  I  have  but  a 
hazy  idea  of  the  next  five  minutes.  A 
man  who  has  been  hanging  at  the  verge 
of  death  gets  tired  in  both  brain  and 
muscle,  and  I  needed  rest. 

When  things  came  around  all  right 
again,  I  was  sitting  up  on  the  snow  and 
drinking  out  of  a  brown  bottle.  The 
colonel  was  lying  on  that  blessed  over- 
coat, his  head  in  his  daughter's  lap  and 
his  face  quite  pale.  They  were  binding 
a  white  cloth  around  his  temples. 


THE   LAST   REBEL  203 

"  What's  the  matter*?"  I  asked,  weakly. 

"An  old  wound  on  his  head  has 
broken,"  replied  one  of  the  men,  in  a 
low  voice.  "  I'm  afraid  he's  in  a  pretty 
bad  way." 

I  put  down  the  brown  bottle  which 
had  comforted  me,  and  I  saw  that  the 
colonel  in  fact  was  in  a  bad  way.  He 
was  unconscious,  and  his  breathing  was 
weak.  He  seemed  to  have  collapsed 
after  a  season  of  fever  and  excitement 
followed  by  the  great  physical  strain  put 
upon  him  by  the  attempted  rescue  of  me. 

I  was  struck  with  remorse.  My  ar- 
rival at  Fort  Defiance  had  caused  all  this 
trouble.  Yet  my  going  there  was  an 
accident,  not  a  matter  that  I  could  have 
helped. 

I  sent  one  of  the  men  after  Dr.  Am- 
brose, pointing  out  the  direction  in  which 
he  had  gone,  and  urging  the  man  to 
make  all  haste.  Then  we  lifted  the  col- 
onel and  carried  him  to  the  hut,  where 
with  overcoats  and  blankets  we  fixed  up 


204 


THE   LAST   REBEL 


a  warm  bed  for  him  and  did  what  else  we 
could  until  the  doctor  came,  which  was 
not  till  late. 

"  He  has  about  an  even  chance,  Miss 
Hetherill,"  said  the  doctor,  after  he  had 
made  his  examination.  "  The  odds 
might  be  his  if  I  had  here  all  that  I 
need,  but  this  is  no  hospital.  I  think  it 
is  best  to  tell  you  the  exact  truth." 

I  thought  so  too.  There  are  women 
and  women  ;  some  are  brave  and  some 
are  not ;  I  like  the  brave  ones  best.  She 
became  chief  nurse  at  once.  Lucky  it  is 
for  a  man,  ill  in  such  a  place,  to  have  a 
woman's  care.  I,  still  feeling  remorse, 
although  my  reason  told  me  I  was  not  at 
fault,  helped  all  I  could. 

The  snow  ceased,  and  toward  evening 
the  colonel  grew  stronger.  Dr.  Ambrose 
had  managed  to  close  up  the  reopened 
wound  and  stop  the  bleeding,  but  a  burn- 
ing fever  came  over  him  and  he  began  to 
talk  very  wildly.  Then  I  saw  how  the 
things  on  which  a  man's  mind  is  centred 


THE   LAST    REBEL  205 

when  he  wakes  come  out  again  in  sleep 
or  delirium.  His  talk  was  all  of  the 
war  and  the  old  battles,  which  he  was 
fighting  as  if  he  rode  and  charged  in 
them  again. 

I,  who  loved  the  Union,  could  not 
help  feeling  a  deep  sympathy  for  him,  he 
seemed  to  have  taken  the  matter  so  much 
to  heart.  When  he  rambled  on  to  the 
end  of  the  war, — that  is,  the  end  accord- 
ing to  history, — and  repeated  again  and 
again  his  declaration  to  stand  out  for- 
ever, I  was  touched,  and  touched  very 
deeply.  Some  one  brought  him  the 
news  that  Lee  was  dead. 

"  I  will  not  believe  it,"  he  cried,  in  his 
delirium.  "  It's  a  lie.  He  is  living,  and 
he  will  lead  us  again." 

He  rose  suddenly,  and,  fixing  his  fever- 
filled  eyes  upon  me,  demanded  of  me  to 
bear  witness  that  it  was  a  lie. 

"  Yes,  colonel,"  I  said,  as  soothingly 
as  I  could,  "  it's  a  lie :  the  general  is 
living,  and  he  is  your  commander  still." 


206  THE   LAST    REBEL 

I  think  I  will  get  forgiveness  for  my 
own  lie. 

After  a  while  he  sank  into  something 
which  resembled  sleep  more  and  delirium 
less,  and  was  quiet.  Miss  Hetherill 
stepped  to  the  little  door  for  air.  Only 
she  and  I  were  there. 

"  Miss  Hetherill,"  I  said,  reproaching 
myself,  "  how  you  must  blame  me  for 
bringing  all  this  grief  upon  you  and 
yours !" 

"You  could  not  help  it,"  she  said, 
very  gently,  "  and  perhaps,  as  I  told  you 
before,  it  may  be  for  the  best,  after  all. 
A  rough  cure  may  be  the  best  cure." 

Dr.  Ambrose  came  up  then  and  in- 
sisted that  we  should  take  rest  while 
others  watched.  We  fenced  off  a  corner 
of  the  camp  for  Grace.  I  sought  my 
own  place,  and  was  soon  sound  asleep. 
In  the  morning  I  found  the  colonel  in 
delirium  again,  though  not  so  violent  as 
he  had  been  in  the  early  part  of  the 
night.     He  was  talking   about  me.     I 


THE   LAST   REBEL  207 

seemed  to  weigh  upon  his  conscience,  as 
he  had  weighed  upon  mine.  He  had 
never  meant  to  do  it,  he  said.  He 
would  not  have  executed  me,  though  he 
still  seemed  to  think  that  his  military- 
duty  commanded  it.  At  any  rate,  he 
was  apologizing  to  me  in  his  sleep,  when 
a  man's  talk  speaks  his  thoughts  and  no 
falsehoods  or  evasions. 

"  How  could  I  execute  him  ?"  he  said. 
"  And  we  slept  under  the  same  blanket, 
too." 

The  second  attack  of  delirium  did  not 
last  long,  and  Dr.  Ambrose  then  said 
that  the  patient's  progress  was  good :  if 
we  could  only  get  him  back  to  Fort 
Defiance  he  would  guarantee  his  recov- 
ery. 

The  snow  had  ceased  and  the  clouds 
had  gone,  leaving  a  cheerful  sun  shining 
on  a  white  wilderness.  We  decided  to 
undertake  the  journey  to  Fort  Defiance, 
and  our  preparations  were  brief.  We 
had  sufficient  skill  and  material  to  make 


2o8  THE   LAST   REBEL 

a  rude  litter  for  the  colonel,  and  we  lifted 
him  gently  into  it.  Then  we  gathered 
up  our  baggage  and  set  out,  four  men 
carrying  the  litter  and  relieved  at  brief 
intervals  by  the  other  sets. 

We  had  to  trample  a  way  through  the 
deep  snow,  and  there  was  plenty  of  hard 
work  for  us,  but  we  became  a  cheerful 
little  army.  The  colonel  was  asleep  in 
his  litter  and  seemed  to  be  growing 
steadily  better ;  the  doctor  reported  that 
his  pulse  was  stronger  and  his  fever  was 
departing.  Grace  passed  from  sadness 
into  cheerfulness,  almost  gayety.  I  called 
her  our  vivandiere :  she  replied  she  was 
proud  of  the  place. 

"  You  heard  what  my  father  said  about 
you  in  his  delirium  ?"  she  said,  when  we 
became  the  last  two  of  the  procession. 
"  He  would  not  have  executed  you." 

"  Colonel  Hetherill  is  a  fine  man,  and 
he  has  my  gratitude,"  I  replied,  not 
liking  to  see  her  under  the  necessity  of 
excusing   him.     "  He    saved  my  life  a 


THE   LAST   REBEL  209 

second  time.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  him, 
I'd  now  be  a  very  cold  corpse  at  the 
bottom  of  a  two-hundred-foot  precipice, 
under  about  fifteen  feet  of  snow." 

"That  would  have  been  a  chilly 
tomb,"  she  said,  gayly ;  "  but  it  was  not 
for  you,  and  we  are  all  thankful." 

The  weather,  it  seemed,  wished  to 
make  some  amends  for  its  previous 
wickedness.  The  sun  was  bright  and 
the  air  fresh  and  full  of  tonic.  Only 
the  snow  stood  in  our  way.  But  we 
made  good  progress  in  spite  of  it.  At 
night  we  devised  another  rude  camp,  and 
took  plenty  of  sleep.  The  colonel  con- 
tinued to  improve,  and  his  head  became 
quite  clear  again.  He  talked  a  little,  but 
in  a  weak  tone,  and  the  doctor  ordered 
him  to  be  silent  for  his  own  good.  He 
obeyed  like  a  little  child.  In  fact,  his 
change  in  manner  and  appearance  was 
very  striking.  He  was  no  longer  the 
haughty,  high-tempered  colonel.  He 
was  crushed  and  forlorn.  All  the  spirit 
14 


2io  THE   LAST   REBEL 

seemed  to  have  gone  out  of  him.  It 
was  most  pitiful.  I  felt  sorrier  than 
ever  for  him,  for  I  knew  he  looked  upon 
himself  as  a  defeated  man. 

We  caught  the  first  glimpse  of  Fort 
Defiance  that  afternoon.  I  saw  the 
comb  of  its  roof  shining  like  a  great 
white  sword-blade  in  the  sun.  The  val- 
ley, like  the  mountains,  was  in  garments 
of  white,  but  the  sight  of  the  houses 
and  fields,  under  snow  though  they  were, 
warmed  the  heart  after  the  weary  tramp 
among  the  clefts  and  peaks. 

We  descended  the  slopes  and  entered 
the  valley.  It  was  my  turn  to  be  one 
of  the  four  at  the  colonel's  litter.  As 
we  swung  along  at  a  good  pace,  I  no- 
ticed suddenly  that  the  old  man  had  put 
his  hands  to  his  face  and  a  tear  was 
dropping  between  two  fingers. 

I  was  silent  for  a  while  from  respect, 
but,  as  he  did  not  take  his  hands  away, 
I  asked  at  last,  though  as  quietly  as  I 
could, — 


THE   LAST    REBEL  211 

"What  is  the  matter,  colonel"?  Do 
you  feel  worse  ?" 

He  took  his  hands  away,  and  his  face 
was  like  that  of  a  dead  man. 

"  Not  worse  in  body,  Mr.  West,"  he 
replied,  "  but  worse,  much  worse,  in 
mind.  I  have  failed  in  everything,  and 
through  the  treachery  of  my  own  people. 
You  have  corrupted  them  all.  Even 
my  own  daughter  has  turned  against  me. 
I  am  going  to  Fort  Defiance,  which  was 
our  last  stronghold,  a  prisoner." 

"  Colonel,"  said  I,  "  what  are  you 
thinking  about  ?  What  are  you  dream- 
ing of1?  You  a  prisoner !  Fort  De- 
fiance betrayed  !     Look  yonder  !" 

We  were  near  the  fort  now,  and  I 
pointed  to  the  Confederate  flag,  that 
waved  over  it,  folding  and  unfolding  in 
the  clear  frosty  breeze.  The  colonel 
looked,  and  his  face  changed  in  a  mo- 
ment from  death  to  life.  The  blood 
flowed  into  his  cheeks  ;  his  eyes  sparkled 
like  a  soldier's  eager  for  battle. 


212  THE   LAST   REBEL 

"  Why,  what  does  that  mean  V  he 
exclaimed. 

"Mean*?"  I  said.  "It  means  that 
you've  been  dreaming,  or  you  wouldn't 
talk  about  being  betrayed,  a  prisoner. 
What  made  you  rush  off  in  such  haste  % 
Dr.  Ambrose's  suggestion  of  surrender 
was  a  sudden  thought,  of  which  he  has 
repented.  Fort  Defiance  is  as  loyal  to 
you  as  ever.  You  are  its  absolute  com- 
mander.    I  am  the  prisoner,  not  you." 

Dr.  Ambrose  had  been  walking  by 
the  litter.  The  colonel  beckoned  to 
him. 

"  Is  this  so,  Dr.  Ambrose  ?"  he  asked. 
"  Is  what  Mr.  West  tells  me  true  ?  Am 
I  still  master  of  my  own  ?" 

"  Certainly :  how  could  it  be  other- 
wise ?"  replied  the  doctor,  with  great  em- 
phasis. "  What  are  your  orders,  col- 
onel?" 

"  Tell  one  of  the  men,"  he  said,  in  a 
voice  very  firm  despite  his  physical 
weakness,  "  to  go  on  ahead  to  the  fort, 


THE   LAST   REBEL  213 

and  direct  those  who  are  there  to  salute 
us  as  we  approach.  Mr.  West,  you  are 
my  prisoner,  but  there  are  certain  cir- 
cumstances in  your  favor  which  I  will 
consider.  You  shall  have  the  liberty  of 
the  fort  and  valley,  if  you  pledge  your 
word  not  to  attempt  to  escape  for  the 
present." 

"  With  pleasure,  colonel,"  I  said ; 
"  and  I  thank  you  for  your  kindness." 

"  Grace,"  he  said  to  his  daughter,  "  re- 
member that  while  Mr.  West  is  our 
prisoner  he  is  to  be  treated  as  our  guest. 
See  to  it,  for  I  am  afraid  this  unfortunate 
illness  will  interfere  somewhat  with  my 
duties  as  host." 

"  I  will  do  my  best,"  she  said. 

We  proceeded  at  a  deliberate  pace 
across  the  plain.  As  we  came  close  to 
the  fort,  the  little  brass  cannon  boomed 
again  and  again.  The  drawbridge  was 
down,  and  the  men  whom  we  left  at  the 
fort  were  drawn  up  at  parade  in  their 
best   uniforms    on    either   side   ot    the 


2i4  THE   LAST   REBEL 

bridge-head.  They  saluted  as  the  col- 
onel rode  proudly  and  triumphantly  be- 
tween their  lines  in  his  litter. 

He  looked  up  at  the  flag  which  he 
loved  so  well,  took  off  his  hat,  his  face 
flushing  with  pride,  and  thus  we  carried 
him  into  the  fort. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

I    AM    IN    FAVOR. 

\T7E  sat  again  in  the  great  drawing- 
room  at  Fort  Defiance.  The 
military  appearance  of  the  apartment  was 
unchanged.  The  portraits  of  the  Con- 
federate generals  looked  from  wall  to 
wall  at  each  other.  The  bright  sun,  re- 
flected from  the  snow  outside,  gleamed 
on  the  burnished  arms.  At  the  head  of 
the  table  sat  the  colonel,  in  his  most 
brilliant  uniform,  stiff  and  precise  as  a 
judge  should  be.  Dr.  Ambrose  at  the 
side  of  the  table  took  their  statements 
in  writing,  and  six  men  in  Confederate 
gray,  Crothers  at  their  head,  listened  at- 
tentively to  the  evidence. 

Thus  my  second  trial  on  the  charge 

215 


216  THE   LAST    REBEL 

of  being  a  Yankee  spy,  appealed  on  a 
writ  of  error  from  the  first,  drew  to  its 
end. 

Miss  Hetherill  sat  beside  the  window. 
Streaks  of  dim  gold  showed  in  her  dark 
hair  where  the  winter  sunshine  fell  across 
it.  When  her  eyes  met  mine  a  bit  of  a 
smile  appeared  in  them,  and  the  delicate 
color  in  her  cheeks  deepened. 

The  last  evidence  was  given,  and  the 
colonel  directed  the  military  jury  to  re- 
tire to  the  next  room  and  consider  a 
verdict.  When  they  had  gone  we 
waited  in  silence.  The  snow-birds 
hopped  about  outside.  One  of  them 
perched  on  the  window-sill  and  stared 
at  us  through  the  glass  for  a  moment. 
Then  he  flew  away.  The  snow  on  the 
knife-edge  of  the  distant  mountain  ridges 
shone  like  gold  under  the  sun. 

The  jury  returned,  Crothers  at  their 
head. 

"  What  is  your  verdict,  gentlemen  ?" 
asked  the  colonel. 


THE   LAST   REBEL  217 

"  Not  guilty,"  replied  Crothers.  "  It 
is  our  unanimous  decision." 

"  I  am  glad  of  it,"  said  the  colonel. 
"  It  is  my  opinion  too.  Mr.  West,  my 
congratulations  and  sympathy  as  from 
one  honest  enemy  to  another." 

He  reached  over  and  gave  my  hand  a 
strong  and  friendly  grasp. 

"  Remember,"  he  said,  "  that  until  we 
return  you  to  your  own  country  you  are 
our  guest  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the 
word." 

Dr.  Ambrose  and  Crothers  also  shook 
my  hand,  and,  everybody  seemed  to  be 
glad  that  we  had  arrived  at  the  truth  at  last. 

By  and  by,  only  Grace  and  I  were  left 
in  the  room.  We  stood  by  the  great 
window ;  the  brilliant  sunlight  reflected 
from  the  snow  threw  a  broad  band  of 
gold  across  the  floor.  Her  face,  for  the 
first  time  since  I  knew  her,  seemed  peace- 
ful and  content. 

The  snow-birds  hopped  from  one  little 
white  mound  to  another,  like  their  breth- 


2i 8  THE   LAST    REBEL 

ren  of  the  summer  passing  from  flower 
to  flower.  Three  or  four  flew  to  the 
brave  little  brass  cannon  which  menaced 
the  passage  of  the  drawbridge,  and 
perched  upon  its  barrel. 

"  They  don't  seem  to  fear  the  dogs  of 
war,"  I  said. 

"  They  need  not,"  said  Grace.  "  Our 
cannon  will  never  be  used  again  ;  the  last 
salute  cracked  the  barrel  all  the  way." 

"  Do  you  forgive  me,"  I  asked,  asking 
the  old  question,  "  for  bringing  so  much 
trouble  upon  Fort  Defiance  ?" 

"  There  is  nothing  to  forgive,"  she 
said,  earnestly.  "It  was  no  fault  of 
yours." 

I  became  brave. 

"  Then  you  are  not  sorry  I  came  ?" 

"  No." 

I  took  her  hands  in  mine. 

"  You  are  sorry  I  am  going  ?" 

"Yes." 

I  kissed  her  for  the  second  time  in  my 
life. 


THE   LAST   REBEL  219 

The  day  had  come  for  me  to  leave 
Fort  Defiance.  The  great  snow  had 
gone.  The  whole  Confederate  army, 
its  commander  at  its  head,  accompanied 
me  as  a  guard  of  honor  to  the  end  of 
the  valley.  Crothers  would  guide  me 
across  the  mountains.  When  the  time 
came  for  the  others  to  turn  back,  Col- 
onel Hetherill  shook  my  hand  again. 

"  You  are  a  gallant  and  honest  enemy," 
he  said,  paying  me  the  highest  compli- 
ment he  knew. 

Grace  walked  a  little  farther.  Then  I 
took  both  her  hands  in  mine  and  kissed 
her  for  the  third  but  not  the  last  time  in 
my  life. 

The  trumpet  sounded  the  recall  from 
the  walls  of  Fort  Defiance. 

"  I  will  come  again,"  I  said. 

"  But  not  as  an  enemy." 

"  Never  as  an  enemy." 

THE    END. 


The 
Sign  of  the  Cross. 

BY 

WILSON   BARRETT. 

With  Frontispiece.      i2mo.     Cloth, 

$1.50. 

* 

"Mr.  Barrett  has  treated  his  subject 
with  reverence  and  dignity.  The  brutal, 
licentious  Nero  and  his  ribald  drunken 
satellites  make  an  admirable  foil  to  the 
spiritual  Mercia  and  the  other  followers  of 
Christ ;  and  the  steadfastness  of  these  last 
are  dominating  notes. ' ' — Philadelphia  Even- 
ing Bulletin. 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY, 

PUBLISHERS,    PHILADELPHIA. 


«  The  Most  Notable  New  Book  of  the  Hour." 

— Philadelphia  Record. 
THE  NEW  GREAT  LITERARY  SUCCESS. 

The 
Taming  of  the  Jungle. 

BY 

DR.  C.  W.  DOYLE. 

l2mo.    Cloth,  ornamental,  $1.00. 

o 

"  'The  Taming  of  the  Jungle'  is  one  of  the 
most  striking  books  of  Indian  life  that  we  have 
seen  since  Mr.  Kipling  produced  his  '  Plain 
Tales  from  the  Hills,'  and  it  does  not  suffer  by 
comparison  with  the  work  that  made  Mr.  Kip- 
ling famous.  Indeed,  if  Dr.  Doyle  had  been 
first  in  the  field  we  venture  to  think  that  Mr. 
Kipling's  work  would  have  been  adjudged  less 
good  than  this  later  effort." — New  York  Litera- 
ture. 

o 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY, 

PUBLISHERS,    PHILADELPHIA. 


yn> 


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